


The Choice: Book 1 of the Bond Series

by Foreverwolf_6



Series: The Bond Series: Merlin [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Boys In Love, Camelot, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Declarations Of Love, Drama, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Healing, Hurt, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Scars, Slash, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 79,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwolf_6/pseuds/Foreverwolf_6
Summary: How much of Destiny is so strongly written that it can't be changed? Arthur is given the chance to find out. Will he and Merlin strengthen their bond, or will the choice mean death for both? Merthur. MerlinWHUMP! Protective/Caring Arthur! Rated T majority (M later chapters). Magic Reveal. Slash. Non Con later in. Triggers.First time posting in AO3- please forgive mistakes!
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Bond Series: Merlin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022760
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**_AN: So. I've been out of practice for a long time. Life just got busy- for a decade, lol. Wow. Anyway. I'm a firm believer there is a silver lining to the darkest of clouds. Covid 19 has afforded me something I haven't had for a long while- time. So, I did what many have been doing- binge watching my favorite shows. Eventually, it had to come back to Merlin, and it reminded me of a concept I'd had a long time ago._ **

**_I started typing, and here we are. I will admit, I have always, always been a lover of Slash, and Hurt/Comfort. Everything about Arthur and Merlin just begs for both. So. In this first foray back into old territory, I will confess to allowing myself complete and utter self-indulgence. MerlinWHUMP and Protective/Caring Arthur is the entire point. Any resemblance to plot is completely secondary._ **

**_Fair warning:_** **_Light spoilers for the entire series hinted at. I did, however, create an alternative timeline. So. Some Canon, some not so much. Hope you enjoy and please be forgiving. It's been a while._ **

**_Also posted in FFNET- it was one of my reviewers that suggested I also post it in AO3- I’ve never done it before, so please forgive any mistakes!_ **

**_MERLIN101010101011010MERLIN_**

**_CHAPTER 1_ **

Arthur woke with a deep, ragged howl- an overwhelming sense of grief and despair filling him. He couldn't breathe. For a moment, he didn't want to. The thought of taking even one more breath to prolong this agony was something his mind skittered from. Pain shivered through every part of him, as if pieces of himself had been torn away. Darkness was enfolding him as the light of his soul was snuffed out.

He blinked when he heard the door to his chambers open, and then focused on the sun that was shining through suddenly open curtains. _His_ curtains. He shifted, feeling the softness of his own bed beneath him, not the cold, muddy ground of a grassy clearing.

"Well, you're awake early," Merlin chirped happily, moving to the breakfast tray he had brought in before opening the curtains.

A dream. It had been a dream. He touched his face, surprised to feel it wet with tears. Who had he been grieving for? The details were already fading, becoming foggy as reality and wakefulness took hold. But that incredible sense of loss stayed with him, clear as day. As did the sense that the dream had taken in a shared lifetime. The details weren't important, but he somehow understood he was meant to remember these feelings.

"Arthur?" Merlin questioned. "Are you all right?" He frowned as he took in the dazed look and the tear tracks of his King.

Arthur nodded, wondering if his still too tight throat would ever open again. His heart still felt like it had stopped, and was being crushed. And breathing... he needed to breathe.

He felt the bed dip beside him as Merlin sat on it, felt warm hands encase his bare shoulders. "Arthur!" Merlin called again, concern easy to read in his voice and face. "You're shaking. Do I need to get Gaius?" But the servant didn't wait for an answer, those warm hands immediately beginning to roam to check for pulse, fever, and/or any injuries. Arthur found he was able to draw in a deep breath. Then he did it again. Hands as familiar to him as his own in many ways seemed to wash the despair from every spot they touched.

"I'm fine, Merlin." Arthur wanted to tease him, to joke, but looking at the worried eyes of his friend- something tugged at him. Some memory from the dream. He pushed it aside. "Really, I'm fine."

Merlin sat back, studying him closely, but nodded. He had no choice but to take Arthur at his word since he could find no physical indication of what had caused the upset. He jumped up. "Right then. Something to eat should fix you up. Then you have a meeting to go to."

"Have you ever experienced loss, Merlin?" Arthur asked suddenly, happy that his voice came out strong. He noted how Merlin froze in his task for a moment, before continuing to load the plate.

"Yes, Sire. I have."

"Do you... " Arthur hesitated, but he had always shared thoughts with Merlin he would share with no one else. "Do you ever dream of them?"

Merlin hesitated again, but then nodded. "Frequently." He brought the plate over to the newly crowned King, understanding in that way he always somehow did that Arthur wasn't ready to leave the safety of his bed just yet. "Is it your father? It's only been a few days since the funeral. Grief takes time to heal."

Arthur thought as he used the diversion of popping a tomato in his mouth. It could be. It would make sense, but somehow, that answer didn't sit right. He loved his father, was fiercely loyal to him, and grieved deeply for him. But theirs had always been a complicated relationship. The loss in his dream had been of someone he had been soul bound to, someone who gave him reason to _breathe_ every day.

He had never loved like that, he didn't think. Like the loss of them would put an end to everything that had ever held meaning to him. "Perhaps," he answered his servant vaguely.

"You know I'm here, Arthur," Merlin offered shyly. "If you ever need to talk."

Arthur smiled around his mouthful. Of course he was. Merlin had always been there. It took genuine effort to remember a time when he hadn't been. A steady rock in the constant upheavals that had been his life as a Prince. He hoped his Kingship would go much smoother. "Thank you, Merlin." Then he blinked. "A meeting? With who?"

Merlin rose then, and Arthur hadn't realized he'd sat on the edge of the bed again. "The Council, of course. With Uther gone, now it's time for the infighting to begin. They all want your approval," Merlin grinned at him. "Your royal arse will be the cleanest it's ever been by the time they finish kissing it."

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. "Merlin, you're not supposed to say such things," he admonished half halfheartedly. But of course Merlin would, at least in the privacy of the royal chambers. Once they left it, the servant would be the picture of respect to those of higher station. "And after the meeting?"

"I thought it best to rearrange your schedule so that you could go beat up some of the Knights in Training," Merlin answered with a smile, bending to pick up the laundry from the floor. "Take the edge off."

And so the day progressed, the dream getting further and further from Arthur's mind until it had been all but forgotten. Merlin's foresight into changing the schedule had been dearly needed by the time the King left the Council Chambers. He was perhaps a little harder on his Knights than he needed to be, but obviously Merlin had prepare them beforehand. All gave as good as they got, and Arthur walked away from the session feeling fresh, and proud of his Knights.

**_MERLIN101010101011100MERLIN_ **

"Arthur, I'm getting worried about you," Merlin said gently, when Arthur woke crying out yet again. It was becoming a daily ritual now. "I wish you'd let me tell Gaius."

Arthur ran his hand over his face, wondering if he should let the servant tell the physician. Two weeks of this had left him exhausted. And always the same. Always the details would fade as soon as he opened his eyes, but that world ending sense of loss stayed with him.

"It's just dreams, Merlin."

"Dreams can be potent, Sire. Many believe that recurring dreams are a message, often a warning."

Arthur frowned at his servant. "You've already talked to Gaius," he accused.

Merlin held up his hands to placate Arthur's irritation. "Gaius thinks _I'm_ the one having bad dreams, I swear. Though if you don't resolve this soon, that lie won't take long to uncover. You look terrible."

Arthur sighed, lacking the energy to scold his friend. "And what advice does he give you?"

Merlin hesitated. "It doesn't help, Arthur, that my life and yours have been very different in a lot of ways. And as I don't have details to give him... he doesn't say much, other than to talk to you about some time off, that I'm working too hard."

Arthur snorted out of habit. "Hardly working, you mean." He smiled when Merlin stuck out his tongue at him. These tiny bits of normal were becoming more and more precious to him. With nearly everyone in the castle seeking the favor of the new King, it was refreshing to have Merlin be smart with him, to treat him the same as he had always done. Wildly inappropriate and occasionally frustrating though it was.

Still. Maybe there was something to Gaius's misunderstood advice. It was becoming quite the burden. He knew how to rule the kingdom, but the inner politics were exhausting him, and beginning to grate on him. The castle walls had never felt so isolating.

"Maybe he's not wrong," Arthur mused aloud. "Maybe some time off is needed. I haven't been hunting since... well. For some time."

Merlin winced. He wanted to offer his friend sympathy, but knew deep down that wasn't what Arthur needed. One more toady stepping lightly around him was the last thing the King needed. So he snorted, and opted for normal. "Why is it every time you need time away some poor innocent animal has to die?"

Arthur laughed, and reveled in how good the standard and anticipated response felt. "We'll leave tomorrow. Prepare for... three days? Yes. That should be enough without being gone too long. We'll return before my Uncle arrives."

"Sire, are you sure? These things never go to plan, and Morgana is still active. She'll take advantage of what she considers to be a weak position," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur threw a pillow at his servant, but couldn't argue the boy was right. "It's a chance we'll have to take. To appease you, Merlin, we'll take some Knights. How's that?"

It was as good a concession as the servant was going to get, so he nodded, bowed, and excused himself to prepare their supplies.

Arthur watched him go, and tried to quell the dark feeling inside him that this was a mistake. That this trip, right now, would cost him everything he held dear. "Merlin's making me paranoid," he grumbled to himself as he dressed.

The next morning dawned with promise of a beautiful day. Arthur looked around at those mounted, nodding to himself. Merlin had chosen well. Sir Lancelot, Sir Gwaine, and Sir Leon. All honest Knights, all respectful but none had reduced to boot licking.

There was, however, one person missing. "Where's Merlin?" Arthur demanded, annoyed at the delay.

Gwaine chuckled. "Gaius cornered him, and is giving Merlin a list of herbs he wants."

Arthur wanted to protest, but instead found himself forced to wait patiently. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Merlin essentially served two Masters. And there had been cases of the sweating sickness going around the lower town. All isolated and he had been assured of the unlikeliness of a major spread. Gaius's requests would, he hated to admit, have to take precedence. He hoped that didn't mean cutting the trip short to return the herbs post haste.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the two appeared on the steps. Merlin had already prepared everyone's horses and then been waylaid by his Guardian. The old man was very lively in describing the plant Merlin was looking for. From the expression on the servant's face, this was not the first time. He decided to help his friend. He may have to defer to the Physician in some matters, but he was still King.

"Let's go, Merlin! You've delayed me long enough!" he ordered sharply, pleased when both men looked at him from their conversation, their reactions total opposites. Merlin grinned, patted Gaius on the shoulder, and all but ran for his horse. Gaius gave a respectful nod to his King, but clasped his hands together in front of him as he often did when displeased.

All mounted, Arthur turned the horses and left the square at a quick clip. Gaius would have been well within his right to keep the servant there with him, and Arthur desperately wanted him on this trip. Once they had passed through the gates, they slowed, and Merlin moved closer to his King.

"Thank you, Arthur," he murmured quietly.

"Will we have to return early?" Arthur inquired back, happy when Merlin shook his head.

"No, Sire. Unless it becomes a major outbreak- and Gaius doesn't think it will- he has enough to see us through. He simply needs them replenished for next time. The drying process is a long one."

They rode in silence for a while. Well, as silent as riding with Gwaine ever got, anyway. The three Knights were taking part in a lively conversation- tales of Gwaine's adventures in the taverns across Camelot, he thought from the snippets he caught.

The sky was beginning to darken when Arthur called a halt for the night. He found peace in the laughter and simple activity surrounding him. The Knights, who teased Merlin mercilessly, were quick to help him finish his chores before the delay got him in any real trouble.

The night air was cool, but fresh. The smell of the campfire an old friend. These dreams had been building, bruising him inside. He felt that washing away in the familiarity of the scene before him. He wished he could remember more about the dream. He'd had it often enough now to understand it hadn't really be him. He'd been living someone else's life, and it was someone else's grief he woke to every morning, but that didn't stop it from piercing him to his soul.

"Arthur?" Merlin called, sounding like it had been done more than once. The King blinked, finding his servant in front of him, handing him the metal plate of stew that had been prepared for the evening meal.

The other Knights were watching too. He took the plate being offered him, not surprised when Merlin sat beside him, and the three Knights turned away, intent on a purposely loud and boisterous conversation.

"Gaius sent me with a sleeping draught, if you need it," Merlin murmured quietly.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't think I'll need it. I think I just needed this." He hoped that was true.

"Then I'm glad we came, even if some poor animal should suffer for it," Merlin grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You're such a girl, Merlin."

**_MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN_ **

"Merlin, I swear you're doing this deliberately," Arthur growled as yet another deer sprinted away from their not so quiet approach. Merlin looked back at him innocently, but said nothing in his own defense, merely shifting the two rabbits they had managed to hunt that he carried.

Still, Arthur was feeling generous. This morning had been the first in a long time he had woken without the shadow of the recurring dream hanging over him. Maybe he had simply been working too hard, had taken on too much so soon after the death of his father.

"All right, let's get back to camp," Arthur announced. "Those need to be skinned."

"Stew or Spit?" Merlin asked as they turned to head back to camp, obviously pleased. Arthur was suddenly aware of a flare of warmth inside him. He ruthlessly pushed it down. He would go so far as to admit Merlin was a friend, but he refused to admit he cared whether the servant was pleased or not.

"Spit. Then you can go collect Gaius's herbs. _Something_ productive might as well come from today," Arthur grumbled lightly.

It was dark when Arthur started to worry. Lancelot and Merlin had been gone much longer than was seemed necessary for collecting herbs. He had made Merlin show him the list before they left. None had been overly rare of difficult to find. He'd felt comfortable sending only one Knight with the boy to complete the chore.

"Leon," he started, but cut off abruptly as the sound of something moving in the bush around them came clear. Then more. They were being surrounded. "To arms!" he called unnecessarily. Leon and Gwaine already had their swords out and were standing a the ready.

It didn't matter. They were outnumbered, and once the bandits had a sword to Leon's throat, threatening to cut it if they didn't drop their arms, the battle was over quickly. He was surprised, however, when the bandits settled into their camp! The three men were bound tightly to a nearby tree, watching while the bandits sat to enjoy their rabbit.

Slowly, more bandits filtered into the camp, bringing with them their own supplies. Arthur strained to hear conversation, but there had been no mention of names. Bandits, perhaps. But these men moved with a clear confidence that only training could provide.

"What took you so long?" the leader growled as a small group finally made it into camp, nearly two hours after the capture of Arthur and his Knights. "Where are the others?"

"We ran into some trouble from the other two," a large man growled, hauling on a rope. Arthur followed it with his eyes and was disappointed to see Lancelot tied to the other end of it. "This one killed four of us."

The leader snorted. "Less to share the bounty with. There are six of you still missing. Did the other get away?"

Arthur felt hope spring in his chest. If Merlin was free, he could return to Camelot for help. He cringed at the word "bounty", though. Not merely bandits. This had been done with planning and purpose. They clearly knew who they were. This wasn't some random opportunistic attack.

"We 'ave 'im," another man, further behind, called out. He was carrying something over his shoulder. "We was never told he could be a threat."

The leader frowned. "He's a servant. How hard could it have been to capture a man huddling in fear?"

Arthur's heart tightened with fear when the man dumped his burden roughly onto the ground, wincing when it bounced from the hard impact. It was an unconscious Merlin. There was blood on his head, but more concerning was the crossbow bolt still lodged in his side.

"I'm not sure who your sources were, Henrix," another man growled, kicking the unconscious servant. "This one killed five of us before I was able to put a bolt into him. And injured Karl enough that it was a mercy to kill him even after the bolt."

Arthur blinked. Surely he was hearing wrong. Lancelot must have done most of it without them seeing. He glanced at Leon and Gwaine, frowning when they were neither surprised nor doubtful of the claim.

Henrix stood and walked over, cuffing the man who had given away his name as he passed to kneel beside the servant. He grabbed Merlin's face in his hand, turning it from side to side. "He doesn't look like much. Still, the bounty includes him. Get that bolt out of him and pray he survives the trip. Tie the Knight up with the others. And Jens, if that was one of your poisoned bolts, I'll have your guts for garters."

Lancelot didn't fight being lead to the tree with the others. None of them made any attempt at escape. They wouldn't, of course. Despite the threats, it sounded like these men were going to treat their injured friend. None of them would consider leaving until that happened.

Once Lancelot was secured, Arthur leaned over to him. "What really happened?" he whispered.

Lancelot hesitated, but shook his head head. "Exactly as they said, Sire. They came on us suddenly, as if they'd been hunting us. Merlin tried to talk his way out, until one of the men mentioned the attack on you. There was no stopping him after that. He didn't hesitate. We killed that first party, and started back, hoping to secure your escape."

Arthur snorted at the assumption they would have been captured. Lancelot cleared his throat. "My apologies, Sire, but Merlin was correct. He said you wouldn't risk the lives of Leon and Gwaine in a pointless fight, and these men seemed to have the advantage of numbers. We were close when the next group found us."

Lancelot grew quiet after that. Arthur frowned. "Lancelot, what happened?"

"He ordered me to run. They knew there were two of us, but he thought he could distract them long enough for me to get away. He insisted one of us had to stay free."

Leon frowned. "That makes no sense. He should have been the one to run, let you fight." But the objection sounded rote, as if said purely because it was expected. He wasn't convinced of its validity.

"As I pointed out to him at the time. I conceded only because when he told me he'd never leave while Arthur was in danger, I believed him. We ran out of time to continue the argument."

"He's your friend," Gwaine growled. "And you left him? Defenseless?" The raw anger in his voice was clear. Arthur hated to admit it, but he had to agree. Whatever could have possessed the Knight of Camelot to leave a serving boy alone against those odds?

Not for the first time, Arthur cursed the unwavering loyalty of his manservant. Leon remained silent, but Arthur could see understanding in his expression. Gwaine was loyal first and foremost to Merlin, his loyalty to Arthur and Camelot coming second. But Leon, Leon knew the boy. Had seen him ride out with Arthur time and again without pause to consider his own survival. Leon, it seemed, would also have obeyed the orders issued by the young man.

To stop the coming resentment from the wild Knight, Arthur snorted. "Well if he killed five, almost 6, of them, he's hardly defenseless, is he?"

"It didn't matter," Lancelot continued. "I stopped when I heard him cry out, hesitated about turning back, and that was when they captured me. I am sorry, Sire. I have failed you both."

"No, Lancelot. We were all taken. This was well planned out. And if they split the group to go look for you and Merlin, they knew he'd be out gathering herbs."

Leon frowned. "A spy inside the palace?" he asked, disdain dripping off his tongue.

They turned as one when a pain filled cry echoed through the camp. Merlin had been close enough to consciousness to feel the bolt being removed, and there was reason to doubt any kindness had been offered.

"The bolt... will he live?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin is tougher than we give him credit for, Sire."

"That's not an answer, Lancelot," Arthur growled.

"Nonetheless, Sire, it is the only one I will give, for in it is hope."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Arthur watched as they threw Merlin from the horse he had been draped across for the past two days. The young servant had not regained consciousness that he could tell, though his features appeared increasingly pale. They had done nothing but tie a loose bandage around the boy's middle, and the bloodstain grew on it daily. They hadn't tied it tight enough to stop the bleeding.

He needed care, and Arthur felt himself growing more desperate as time went on. They needed to escape, but none of them were willing to leave the servant behind to do it. It was ridiculous, of course, to risk everything for the boy, but it was an unspoken understanding shared by all of them.

The men, despite letting a few names slip, had been extremely closed mouth about where they were going, or who had set the bounty. Today, however, it had become obvious as they crossed over Camelot's border.

When they came to gather his ropes to tie him a nearby tree again, Arthur decided to take a chance. "He needs help," he called out, turning in his captor's arms to glare at Henrix. "He's dying."

"One less mouth to feed," Henrix replied casually. Uselessly. Merlin hadn't been awake to take in anything.

"Please," Arthur found himself saying, and meaning. His men turned to look at him, but there was no judgment on their faces. He had their full support. "You said he's part of the bounty. If he dies, there will be less gold in your pocket. Not to mention the possibility Odin will kill you. He doesn't take well to having his orders disobeyed."

Henrix wasn't stupid as he cocked his head toward the King. There was a reason he kept the servant on the opposite side of the camp at night. He didn't know why, but it was the boy ensuring the good behavior of his captives. The young King, however, wasn't wrong in his assessment of Odin. The man was unstable at best. "And you think you can save him?"

"Let us care for him, and we will try," Lancelot put in, careful not to make a promise that could cost a life if they failed. Merlin was far gone, after all. He could see Arthur's readiness to make any bargain necessary. Whether the King would admit it or not, he cared deeply for the boy always at his side.

Henrix hesitated, looking around at his men. None of them cared for the life, but they did care for the gold he represented. He had originally thought the ailing boy would be enough to make for a smooth journey to their employer. But they still had a three day journey, and the boy clearly wouldn't live that long.

It was a risk. But better than facing Odin's wrath. He nodded, holding up his hand to stop his men as the King himself rushed forward to kneel beside the still figure. Henrix wasn't the only one surprised by the gentleness the boy king displayed in picking up the servant, pointedly carrying him close to the tree they had originally been herded toward.

Henrix understood the gesture. They would not run. He ordered them loosely bound to the tree, with Arthur and Lancelot being given enough rope to move freely around the boy. Gwaine chaffed against his tighter bonds, stilled only by a sharp glance from Arthur and quickly whispered words from Leon. Misbehavior now could cost Merlin the help he so desperately needed.

Arthur frowned as he examined the head wound. It had bled profusely, but had dried now. There was deep bruising around the cut, indicating it had been a heavy blow. One that should have felled the boy immediately. He looked questioningly at Lancelot, but the Knight shook his head. "I don't know, Sire. He had sustained before I got to him." Arthur discovered a new respect for his friend. Tougher indeed.

"He's feverish," Arthur noted, moving on. He lifted the bloodstained tunic. The roughshod bandage around Merlin's abdomen was loose enough to remove, if not for the one section over the wound, dried and clinging to it.

Arthur crinkled his nose. He had seen enough battlefield wounds to recognize the rancor of infection. He hesitated. If he tried to pull off the filthy bandage, it may start the bleeding again. Alternatively, leaving it there would only increase the infection.

He looked up as a bucket of steaming water was placed next to him, along with a pile of cloths in a bowl. Obviously meant to be bandages, though they were not nearly clean enough to act as such. "Lancelot, remove your cloak and put it on the ground with the cleanest spot up."

Lancelot didn't hesitate to follow instructions, watching as Arthur stacked the rags on it, emptying the bowl and using the bucket dipper to put some water in it. He paid no mind when the Knight turned to catch a water skin thrown at him, but stopped him when he tried intended to pour some into Merlin's mouth.

"Don't waste it. He cried out when the bolt was taken. With luck, he'll wake enough to take in more than we could force."

Arthur worked as he had done many times on the battlefield, always hearing Gaius's instructions in his mind. Clean, clean was key. He was thankful Henrix had ordered the water boiled. It was hot to work with, and left Merlin's skin red where it touched, but it was enough to soak off the dried bandage, and clean the wound.

Merlin shifted when the hot water touched the wound. He saw Lancelot grab the boys' hand, but made no move to stop Arthur when he pressed down on the wound to drain some of the pus out, cleaning diligently each time he did so.

When Merlin cried out the third time, Arthur winced. He wanted to stop causing the boy pain, but they needed him awake and this had to be done. He knew to keep draining until it spewed only blood.

Merlin cried out again, this time trying to shift away from the pain, but Lancelot held him firm. "This must be done, my friend," Lancelot spoke, using a cloth and some of the cooled water to wipe the fevered brow.

The fifth time earned a scream from Merlin, and his eyes began to flutter. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief not only because of Merlin's return to consciousness, but also because the last press had been cleanly blood red.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur spoke now, truly apologetic. A part of him wanted to tease, to call him a girl. But wounds to the abdomen were no laughing matter. They were, on a battlefield, a slow and painful death sentence. He remembered killing his enemies who had displayed such. No man deserved that fate.

Could he kill Merlin from mercy as he had his enemies? Selfishly, he knew he couldn't. Admitted now, only in the most dire of situations, could he admit the boy was his best friend. That he couldn't bear to lose him so soon after losing his father.

"Arth'r.." Merlin's breathless slurring of his name brought him back. He reached out and grabbed the boys' other hand.

"I'm here, Merlin."

"S'f..."

Arthur hesitated. They were not safe, but Merlin's bout with consciousness was fleeting at best. How much would he understand in his current state? Should he lie to the servant and tell him he was safe at last? He looked up in surprised as Lancelot answered.

"Arthur is safe, Merlin," the Knight soothed gently. As if that wasn't confusing enough, the comfort Merlin took from the answer seemed to be exactly what he'd needed to hear.

"G'd"

"Can you drink for me, Merlin?" Arthur asked, choosing to ignore the meaning behind the exchange that had just taken place. He held the dipper to the dry lips, offering only little sips at a time. He was disappointed when Merlin had only the strength to take a few before he coughed, turning his head away.

Arthur took a deep breath. They were ready for the hardest part. He put his hand on Merlin's forehead, leaning close. "Merlin, we need to sit you up so I can wrap the bandage around you. It's going to hurt but it has to be done."

Merlin nodded. Arthur and Lancelot positioned themselves to carefully bear the weight entirely themselves to keep his core as steady as possible, but it didn't stop the cry. Both men winced. Lancelot took the servant's weight onto himself, glancing at the King, the plea to work quickly clear.

Arthur did so, tying the bandage tightly so it would stay, earning another cry. "There, I'm done," he said quickly. "It's over." For now, he thought. He'd have to check it again in the morning. They laid Merlin carefully back down, and Arthur didn't hesitate to take off his own cloak to throw it over him.

"No, Arth'r... c'ld..." Merlin objected. Arthur was worried about the continued slurring. He could see Henrix coming toward them, and knew their time was short.

"I'll be fine, Merlin. We're not all soft like you," Arthur teased, and was rewarded with a snort. He was denied a witty comeback. Merlin's effort to protect him had taken the last of his energy, it seemed, and he fell back into unconscious.

"Will he live?" Henrix demanded.

"He has a better chance," Arthur answered. "If he survives the night, we'll know better." He felt a pang in his chest as he said it. It was truth, but from he had seen... it was also unlikely. "Leave him with us, please. We'll watch over him." If Merlin was to perish overnight, Arthur refused to let him do so alone.

Henrix hesitated, but nodded. He motioned to Lancelot. "Tie him back up. They don't need two of them anymore." He glared at the Knight, daring him to make a fuss. It took only a slight shake of Arthur's head for him to back up willingly to the tree.

Arthur positioned himself so that Merlin's head was on his lap. He stayed awake, silently watching over the servant even while the other Knights fell asleep. Once he could hear their snores, he gently stroked Merlin's bangs back into place, continuing to run the cooled water over his face and neck in an attempt to bring down his fever.

"I can never say how sorry I am for this, Merlin. I don't know why you're here. Why I always bring you with me. You were right. These trips never turn out well. I knew it was potentially dangerous. And now you're suffering because of my selfish whims."

Arthur felt, then, a wisp of the grief he had woken to every day for a fortnight. This time, though, he knew it to be his own. Merlin's breathing was getting more labored. The boy was dying. Their care had been too little, too late. He'd needed Gaius.

Arthur sniffled, sadness and the cold night air traitorously mixing to make his eyes water. "And I have to be selfish again. Because I know you're in pain, but I need you to wake up. I don't know how, or why, but I have this feeling we need you to make this right. Which is utterly ridiculous because you're just a servant." Just a servant who had killed 5 men on his own while seemingly barely able to raise a sword, never mind wield one. Just a servant who had ridden out with him against all odds time again, and who always somehow managed to be the one left standing.

As if responding to his commands, Merlin stirred in his lap, his face collapsing in agony, but his eyes opened. That they seemed clearer gave Arthur hope that perhaps they had been able to do just enough.

"Arth'r..."

"I'm here, Merlin," Arthur reassured, giving the boys shoulders a light squeeze, careful not to pain him.

"Wh't h'pp'n'd?"

"Well, it turns out you were, maybe just this once, right. Things didn't go to plan."

"M'r'g'na?"

"Odin, actually. How's your head?" Arthur asked worriedly. Had there been damage by the blow? Is that why Merlin was slurring? And why his eyes couldn't seem to focus on any one spot? He prayed it wasn't, that it was just the heat of the fever making it hard for the young man to concentrate.

"L'k Dr'm," Merlin murmured, crying out as he attempted to raise his hand to it. Arthur grabbed it, carefully holding it still.

"Easy, Merlin. You're hurt. Your side, do you remember?" He carefully reached over and grabbed another dipper of water. He had made sure it was close earlier. He carefully fed his servant a few more sips. Still not enough by the time Merlin turned away, but better than earlier.

Merlin coughed a few times, but then seemed to draw an easier, deeper breath. He'd obviously worked out how to breathe around his side. It wouldn't last. The next shift in position would throw off the worked out method. Arthur determined not to move a muscle for the rest of the night. He had spent the previous night listening to Merlin's breathing become more and more labored. He hadn't slept in fear that those sounds would suddenly stop.

He was exhausted. The long days walking added to sleepless, cold nights full of worry were taking their toll on him.

"Y'u sh'l'd sl'p," Merlin ground out.

"I'm fine, Merlin. I couldn't sleep if I wanted to."

Frowning, Merlin began to shift, grimacing in pain with every movement but obviously determined. "Merlin!" Arthur cried softly. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

"Sl'p... n'd to sl'p..." And Arthur understood. Merlin was determined to take the watch so Arthur could rest himself. Shaking his head, Arthur wrapped his arms around the servant, holding him as tightly as he dared.

"Merlin, stop, please, you'll hurt yourself more," Arthur begged, fear in his heart as he realized Merlin could very well undo everything they had managed to accomplish. He was weak, but the slight struggle against Arthur was enough to hurt him. Arthur feared it might be enough to _kill_ him if he didn't stop. "Fine! Merlin, alright! I'll sleep."

Merlin stopped struggling, breathing hard, coughing- deep and hacking. The activity had irritated something inside. They had somehow managed to position themselves so that Merlin was halfway sitting up, with Arthur's arms holding him against his chest. "L'y'ng"

Arthur shook his head, casting about for a solution. They were close to the tree. If he could get them there, then leave up against he could keep Merlin at his chest. It would be better for him than lying on the cold ground. "I'm not. I swear. If you've got that much spirit, then we can get to the tree with the others. You'll be able to feel my breathing slow as I sleep," Arthur offered. "But you have to let me do the work."

Reluctantly, Merlin nodded again. He bit his lip as Arthur lifted him as carefully as he could. It took a few minutes, and no small amount of pain from Merlin, but they managed to situate themselves so that Merlin's head was nestled against Arthur's shoulder, with his forehead into the crook of the King's neck.

It wasn't easy, but Arthur could as easily follow Merlin's breathing, and with his forehead against the sensitive part of his body, he could gauge Merlin's fever throughout the night without having to move. Not to mention the added warmth of Arthur's cloak now pulled up to cover both of them.

"There, happy?"

"Sl'p, Arth'r," Merlin murmured weakly.

Arthur had intended to feign sleep until Merlin lost consciousness, but found himself oddly soothed by having Merlin's slight weight against him. The upright position seemed to have eased the boy's breathing as well. He felt reassured, feeling Merlin in his arms. He felt like he could protect him from here. The thought of the Knights waking in the morning to find them like this didn't bother him like it should have.

It wasn't until he felt a kick to his boot that he realized he'd been lulled to sleep. He blinked up to find Jens standing over him, hesitating over something. Arthur panicked for a moment, then stilled. He could feel Merlin's steady breathing against him, much easier than it had been the night before.

"It's time to go," Jens growled. Arthur shook his head, looking for Henrix, who stood a few feet behind his henchman, waiting expectantly for the move of the prisoners.

"Please, if we could rest one more day, I'm confident he would survive and you'll get your gold," Arthur called to the leader.

Henrix frowned, then motioned toward another man Arthur didn't know the name of. The other man came over, and did a quick, battlefield check on the boy. Reluctantly, he turned back to his leader. "He's much improved. It's likely the King is right. Another day left where he is, and he's like as to be in good enough shape to avoid Odin's wrath. The cost of a day is cheaper than losing half the bounty." The man glanced at Arthur. "Some bread soaked in broth should give him some strength too. They could all use a meal if we want them to last themselves."

Henrix grunted, but nodded, turning away.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured to the man.

He shrugged. "I'm no physician. I do have a talent for smelling death. He doesn't smell quite as strongly as he did. Understand, boy, that you've done him no favors. He would have suffered less had you let him die here."

Standing, the man walked away. Arthur grimaced, knowing in his heart it hadn't been boasting, merely fact. Selfishly, he held Merlin closer. At least alive there was hope of escape. Arthur felt he could protect him from anything else.

"Sire, is he truly better?" Lancelot asked from beside him. He saw Gwaine and Leon also watching him expectantly. He remembered then that he should feel embarrassed of his current position, but couldn't bring himself to care. He nodded.

"A little. He's breathing easier and there's less heat to him today."

"Great. Now all we need is for Camelot to know we're missing," Gwaine answered. He could count time too. Today would be their third day. It wouldn't be until they hadn't arrived by morning that a patrol would be sent out. "Now would be a lovely time to be rescued."

They sat quietly for hours. Around mid day a meal was brought to them of stew and bread with some fresh water. They were untied enough eat, but still firmly attached to the tree to impair any sudden movements. Arthur ate carefully, not wanting to disturb his friend. This seemed to be a genuine sleep rather than unconsciousness. He hoped it was a healing one.

They were still eating when Merlin stirred against him, moaning at the pain it caused. Arthur put his meal down and put his arm back around the boy to keep him still. "Don't move, Merlin," Arthur said gently. Not quite awake enough to take in Arthur's instructions, but enough to recognize his voice, Merlin tried to shoot up. He screamed as it jostled his middle, falling back against his so far unrecognized support. A nasty bout of the deep hack returned to him, forcing him to gasp for air in between. Unconsciously, Arthur held him tighter, rocking him a little. The King winced at the flecks of blood that appeared on the pale lips and used his thumb to quickly wipe it off before the bounty hunters saw it.

"Shhhh, Merlin," Arthur whispered in his ear. "Easy. Easy. I'm here." He continued to murmur nonsense until the weakened boy finally got himself under control. He ran his hand through Merlin's hair in a soothing pattern.

The other Knights watched in concern. They had seen the blood.

Finally Merlin took a deep, largely unfettered breath. "Arthur," he croaked. The King quickly spooned some water into his mouth. "Are you all right?" he asked once he could clear his throat.

Arthur was thrilled to see those intensely blue eyes focusing on his face, and a shaky but relatively strong voice asking him without any slur. He chuckled. "I'm better now. How do you feel?"

"Where are we?" Merlin asked, instead of answering. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Leon asked, alarmed.

Merlin shook his head. "We were ambushed," Arthur answered slowly. "You were hurt, badly. They're taking us to Odin. For a bounty."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur, you need to get out of here. Why have you not escaped? Odin will kill you as soon as we arrive."

It was a relief to hear Merlin's speech had improved, worrisome that he had no memory of recent events, and frustrating that still his only concern seemed to be for the safety of his King. Irritated, Arthur shook his head. "You're serious? Merlin, you can barely move. I'm the only thing holding you up. You're certainly in no condition to escape."

"Then leave me," Merlin replied without hesitation. "I'll make my way. I always do."

Leon burst out laughing, shaking his head. Some things, it seemed, would never change. Lancelot cocked his head, considering the young man. "Merlin, we're outnumbered 10 to 1," he pointed out.

"Fair odds for any Knight of Camelot," Merlin replied confidently.

"Merlin you're unbelievable," Arthur groaned. While he appreciated his servant's faith in their abilities, and had Merlin not been injured he may have attempted it, it would have come at too high a cost. One of these men that he considered brothers would have died in the attempt. Surely Merlin knew that.

A guard came then, taking Lancelot and Leon away to the latrines. Part of their daily routine. At first they had considered them a potential escape plan, but they were too well guarded. And they always took Arthur separately.

"Merlin, they're going to come for me next. Moving is going to hurt," Arthur warned.

"Arthur, I'm serious. Leave me," Merlin pleaded quietly. "If you get a chance, take it."

"We're never given one. And with you recovering, they'll be watching us even more closely. You killed 5 of them by yourself. They're almost more wary of you than me," Arthur chuckled.

Merlin seemed to hesitate, making Arthur frown. Obviously the boy didn't remember that part of the attack either. But he didn't think that was it. "Merlin? What's wrong?"

"Promise me you'll take the chance if it presents itself. And it may do so very soon," Merlin insisted. The tone was one that was familiar to the King. Merlin had used it before. Usually right before some miracle happened to save them all. He somehow always seemed to know. Just as he somehow always seemed to know when things would go wrong. The serving boy, it appeared, had developed his fair share of battle instincts during his time with Arthur.

"Merlin..."

"Swear it, Arthur."

"You are the most pig headed, idiot I have ever known," Arthur growled. "Stop being foolish. I won't leave you."

"You will," Merlin sounded very self assured. He coughed, more blood appearing on his lips. Arthur gave him some more water. He was trying to coax him into eating some of his own stew when the two other men returned.

The guards weren't gentle when they removed Merlin from Arthur's support, but they were at least made the effort to ask the boy if he needed to go. Merlin shook his head weakly, beginning to shiver in missing the heat Arthur's body provided him.

"Lancelot," Merlin called softly, getting the Knight's attention. The man ignored his guards, moving beside the boy. "Be ready," Merlin whispered as the Knight was tied to the tree next to him, the guards opting for the path of least resistance.

"Merlin, you can't. Not with Arthur so close," Lancelot murmured back, barely moving his lips so Leon couldn't hear their conversation.

"I must. I'm running out of strength," Merlin breathed, coughing. "It must be soon if it's to be at all."

Lancelot looked at him sharply, his eyes taking in what Arthur had refused to see. "You're not getting better, are you?" Merlin looked at him sadly, shaking his head.

"My magic has given me this little strength to do what needs done."

"He won't leave you," Lancelot argued. "He cares for you more than he's willing to admit, even to himself." The tenderness Arthur had showed toward the servant proved that. There was love in those motions, in that insistence on being the one to care for him. They had been devoted to each other for years. That couldn't be undone as easily as Merlin believed.

"He will. When he learns the truth. If I'm lucky he'll kill me himself. If not, I'm condemned to a slow death of drowning in my own blood," Merlin gasped, coughing. He had spent years as apprentice to a physician. He knew the signs well enough. He was blood sick.

Lancelot looked devastated to hear his friend talk so blithely of his own death. "Perhaps, if we can just make it to Odin's land..."

"No, Lancelot. Please," Merlin hacked again, leaning over and spitting out the blood that came with each cough. "Please swear to me you'll keep him safe." He couldn't breathe, but he pushed the words out. He needed to know Arthur would be safe when he was gone.

"I swear, Merlin, with my last breath I will protect him," Lancelot answered, putting a hand on the shoulder of the retching boy, hating to see him so miserable. The blood on the ground gave a true enough sense of how superficial the current bout of recovery was.

"I don't know how much I can do, but be ready," Merlin repeated, closing his eyes in exhaustion, no longer able to hold himself up. He felt himself suddenly grabbed, then he was pulled back into warmth. He let it carry him into a temporary darkness. He needed to rest for this.

Arthur settled the servant against him, concerned over how much worse he looked. He saw tears on Lancelot's face, concern on Leon's. "What happened?"

"He exhausted himself, Sire," Leon answered. He couldn't hear more than snippets of the intense conversation between the Knight and servant, but he understood enough to know the boy was intending something completely foolish. The look of pain and resolve on Lancelot's face told him Merlin had extracted some kind of oath from him. Neither indication boded well for a happy return to Camelot.

"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur whispered harshly into the ear of the sleeping man against him. "I wont' leave you."

_You will_. The confident words floated in Arthur's memory, and with them the remembered pain from the dream. Something was coming close. Something he wasn't ready to deal with. He somehow felt his entire world being threatened. He tightened his hold, determined to protect the idiot, even from himself if he had to.


	3. Chapter 3

It was late at night when Merlin stirred again. The fire in the center of camp burned low, three bounty hunters left awake to guard the sleeping prisoners. He moved carefully, feeling Arthur's arms tighten around him instinctively.

"Can you take some water?" The king whispered, having woken to Merlin's movements. In truth, he had been woken by the coughing that had preceded Merlin actually opening his eyes.

Merlin nodded reluctantly, taking in the little he was able before his stomach rebelled and he pushed it away. "Arthur," he whispered weakly. "It has to be now."

"Don't be foolish," Arthur grumbled back. "Get some rest. I won't be able to put them off for another day."

Merlin shook his head sadly, slowly working himself away from the support of Arthur's broad chest. "Wake the others," he ground out between teeth clenched in pain. Arthur tried to stop him, but the boy was determined and to continue to restrain him would only hurt him more. The King let go, reluctantly.

"We're awake, Merlin," Lancelot whispered. He never opened his eyes, still giving the appearance of sleep. Leon and Gwaine offered subtle nods. They were more visible to the guards.

"Arthur, I'm sorry," Merlin gasped. He sat back on his heels, and lifted his arms.

"Hey! You there! What are you up to?" the night guard shouted, catching Merlin's movements. It was enough to rouse the rest of the camp, but Merlin paid them no mind. He opened his eyes, and Arthur stared at the molten gold in them.

" _Forbierne_ ," Merlin shouted. The low fire in the camp center leapt, moving to engulf those lying closest to it. They started to scream but the young magician paid them no mind, moving his hand instead toward the night guards running at them. " _Frēose_ ".

Arthur watched, stunned, as the men froze solid mid step. Merlin was beginning to gasp, the magic exhausting him in his weakened state. Sweat streamed down his face.

"Merlin!" Lancelot yelled in concern. Merlin turned toward him, weakly lifting his hands to the ropes around Arthur which was connected to all three.

" _Ontȳne,_ " he gasped out, then collapsed. The Knights didn't hesitate in shedding their loose ropes. Leon and Gwaine grabbed Arthur, who was still sitting, unable to believe what he was seeing, pulling him forward. Those guards unaffected by Merlin's magic were beginning to race toward them, but had been stationed further out, watching for other bandits looking to make good on their hard won bounty.

Lancelot scrambled toward the warlock, grabbing his arms and forcing him to his feet. "We have to go, Merlin." Lacking the strength to argue, Merlin stumbled away with the Knight. He could see Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon in front of him, swords they had grabbed cutting down resistance to their escape.

"One more time, Merlin," Lancelot coaxed. "I can't carry sword and you as well."

" _Belȳcest_ ", Merlin called out. The few guards left chasing them collapsed. Lancelot didn't bother to stop to see if they were still alive.

They ran for some time before Lancelot called a stop when Merlin collapsed unconscious beside him. Leon and Gwaine stationed themselves to listen for signs of pursuit, but heard none. Gwaine wondered vaguely if the boy had left any alive to come after them.

Arthur sat on his haunches, well away from where Lancelot was leaning over the servant. No. Not a servant. A betrayer. A sorcerer. The hurt the King felt was deep. Anger rose in him, and he wanted nothing more than that the sorcerer was awake to bear his wrath. His oath of protection forgotten.

He had called him friend. A part of him had even loved the boy. And all these years, he'd been lied to. Merlin wasn't who he said he was at all. His anger was turning to rage. Living in Camelot all this time. Taunting them. Daring them to discover his secret. Flaunting that Camelot was victim to magic in its very walls.

"Sire," Lancelot called, getting his attention, his tone pleading.

"Don't you dare beg for his life, _Sir_ Lancelot," Arthur growled. "He has betrayed you almost as deeply as he has myself." He switched his glare to Gwaine, rendering his own objections silent through it. "Do none of you realize what he has done?" he roared.

"He saved our skins is what he did," Gwaine retorted without hesitation, moving cautiously closer to the boy. "As he has done a thousand times over in the past," the Knight continued.

Arthur's face turned red with rage. "You knew?" he demanded of the Knight, sharing the glare with Lancelot. There was no shock on their faces. Leon looked torn, but suitably shocked, as if he wasn't entirely sure where he stood. The bewilderment saved him from Arthur's ire, but the other two would pay dearly, he vowed.

"I guessed," Gwaine confirmed. "Since the Quest that we know nothing about," he confirmed cryptically, "and the little fellow on the bridge told us Strength and Magic had come."

"And you?" Arthur raged, feeling betrayed now by all those surrounding him. They had let a known sorcerer remain hidden within Camelot.

"Almost since our first meeting. It was he who killed the Griffin."

Arthur stood, pacing, shaking with anger. There was little the law could do to them. It was he, after all, who had harbored a magic user all this time. Protected him, even. All the times Merlin had announced himself a sorcerer, and Arthur had been too blind to see it for truth.

Merlin coughed then, stirring. Arthur froze, expecting his death to come immediately now that the sorcerer was known. It was a pitiful image. Sorcerers were usually larger than life, like Morgana. Not often lying on the ground, blood pouring from the corners of their mouth as they coughed.

Merlin's eyes- blue once again- seemed to suddenly focus on the fact that only Lancelot was near him. He panicked. "You promised..." he spit out, coughing again.

"Easy, Merlin," Lancelot soothed. "I have broken no vow. Arthur is safe."

The fight seemed to leave the young man, and for a moment, Arthur was left to wonder if there had been a mistake. Surely this weak creature couldn't be the great evil he had shown himself to be? Where was the power?

He shook himself. It didn't matter. He wouldn't let himself feel sorry for the young man he had once thought he knew. "The law is clear," he finished his thought out loud. Gwaine held up the sword immediately, prepared to give his own life to defend his friends. Arthur admired his loyalty, but would not be stopped in this.

"Gwaine," Merlin gasped from the ground. "Stop."

Hesitating, Gwaine lowered his sword. Merlin reached for Lancelot to help him up. He would face his King on his feet. The Knight hesitated, but did so. "Merlin, please," Lancelot whispered, heartsick over what was to happen.

"It's his right, my friend," Merlin answered softly, patting the hand reassuringly. "His choice."

He hobbled until he stood before Arthur, then to everyone's stunned surprised, knelt as gracefully as he could on his knees. "My Lord," he whispered, coughing, the movement having jarred his side. "I am yours." He wanted to say more, but that was all he could manage, wavering sideways before he caught himself.

"You betrayed me," Arthur accused. The law was clear. Friend or no, he had no choice.

"Never," Merlin answered simply. A statement of truth and utter conviction.

"You lied to me!" Arthur shouted, furious as much with himself as for the pathetic servant in front of him.

"Many times," Merlin confirmed.

"Have you _nothing_ to say in your own defense?" Arthur asked incredulously. He had expected a plea for his life, denial, anything but this calm acceptance. He was finding it difficult to hang onto his anger. His natural inclination was to worry over the state of his once friend. He had to fight that. Had to force himself to stay angry. The law was clear.

"Nothing that would matter to you in this moment," Merlin answered. He wouldn't make this any more difficult on his King than he had to. Arthur's decision was already made. Had been before he regained consciousness. There would be no swaying him now, and Merlin didn't have the energy to try. He had always known it could come to this. This hadn't been the way he'd ever wanted Arthur to find out, but he wouldn't regret being the tool of their freedom.

"Are you magic?" A part of Arthur cried out to the boy, begged him to deny it. He would let himself believe it, this last time, he thought. That would allow him to merely banish him. Merlin's breathed response broke his heart.

"Yes."

And there it was. There was no escape now. "Merlin, son of Hunith of Ealdor, from your own mouth you confess to using magic within Camelot's borders. You have confessed to treason against the crown you swore to serve. In front of these witnesses, have you anything to say against these charges?" The words felt dragged out of him, each one breaking his heart over again.

"I told you once, Arthur, that I was happy to serve you until the day I died. That remains true, even now. If my death will serve you, then so be it," Merlin replied calmly.

Arthur wanted to scream at him. Despite everything, he believed every word. Merlin was too calm. There was no fear in him. Sorcerer or not, he would allow Arthur to kill him. _Run, you fool_ , Arthur's heart screamed at him. But Merlin never moved, merely continued to look at him with that insufferable calm.

"Then I have no choice but to sentence you to death." The words dripped off the King's tongue, tasting vile and wrong. He wouldn't take them back. The law was clear. A part of him wondered whether it was just- he had no proof of evil deeds, after all. Only the lies. He viciously silenced that tiny voice. The lies were enough. Being connected to Magic was enough.

"Then do it here, Sire. For years of service, do it quickly and privately. These Knights bear witness that the sentence was carried out, by the Code of Camelot their word beyond contest," Merlin requested earnestly. He wouldn't survive the trip back to Camelot, and Arthur deserved this sense of revenge. He would not deny it to him.

"Merlin!" Gwaine cried out, confused, hurt, and angry. "I swear, Arthur if you kill him you'll live to regret it. He has protected Camelot for years! Who do you think will protect us the next time Morgana comes calling?" the Knight raged, moving forward even as Lancelot and Leon moved to stop him.

"Gwaine," Merlin called so softly that all had to stop their motions to hear him. "Do nothing. All is as it is meant to be."

Arthur was outraged that the Knight had dared to threaten him. He was the King! This was the law of the land Merlin had chosen to knowingly live in. He was a betrayer, likely in league with Morgana. Camelot could not suffer a sorcerer to live.

Despite this surety, his hand shook as he stepped behind Merlin, raising the point of his sword to the boys neck. There was nothing in him to deny the last request, sorcerer or no. "Merlin," Arthur begged one last time, unsure he could do this. He had no choice. He knew that. But surely the boy could escape. Could run. Likely never to be found again. That small voice in him warred with the surge of anger, hurt, and betrayal that swirled inside of him.

"It's all right, Arthur. I forgive you," Merlin murmured, bowing his head to expose the back of his neck.

Arthur forced the sword down. As the blade slid through soft skin, Arthur's mind exploded with the details of the dream that had haunted him. A life time lived through the eyes of a magic user, working tirelessly and without credit for years to protect the ideals of Camelot. Suffering through losses enough to drive any other man mad. A man who had given of himself time and time again to make true a dream of the Kingdom the King he served could forge. That they could forge together.

A lifetime right up until the final betrayal of a boy the King had bonded with years before, beginning the seeds of his own destruction. The battle was inevitable. The death of the great king he served Fated and unavoidable.

Arthur remembered now, watching and feeling through Merlin's eyes all those years in the shadows, doing what needed to be done. Protecting those he loved with a fierce loyalty. None so dearly as the King he had given his heart and soul to.

That incredible grief had been Merlin's when Arthur had died of a sword shard. Death by Mordred's hands, as had been prophesied for generations before either had been born. A deep sense of failure, of despair.

" _Just, just hold me. I know now, all you've done, for me, for Camelot, for the Kingdom you helped me build. Thank you,_ " a dying's King's words like knives to an already shattered heart. A lifetime waiting to hear those words, given only when it was too late.

Arthur blinked, the still body in front of him clearer now that the visions had passed.

"What have I done?"


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur winced as his knees hit the stone floor of the cavern beneath him, crying out in rage and pain. Tears fell down his cheeks, memories of both lifetimes vivid in their detail. In one it had been him who died damning someone he loved to a life of torment, in the other, he had killed the one person he loved most on this earth.

"Why?" Arthur got out, not sure who or what he was asking, but he was certain someone was there.

"The Pool can show us many paths, Prince Arthur. May show us choices we have yet to make," a woman's voice came, crystalline and beautiful, from beside him. He looked over to see a woman highlighted in light.

"You're of magic," he accused, wincing as the words repeated from the last vision. He was trembling, overwhelmed. He remembered now, and looked around the cave. He saw time frozen. He saw Merlin's eyes glowing that same molten gold as he hurled an enchanted sword at the Questing Beast hovering over his own body. "He is a sorcerer."

"Not _just_ a sorcerer, Prince Arthur. He is the son of the Earth, Sea and Sky, of Creation itself. Our last hope in ending the annihilation of our ways, and our people. The last hope of mankind, as Magic flows through all life, and without it, nothing exists."

"I don't understand," Arthur shook his head.

"You do, young Pendragon. He doesn't use magic, he _is_ magic. Born with it coursing through his veins as blood courses through yours. In many ways, as much a victim of it as you have been. Like you, his destiny has been written since mankind was young. A destiny he will suffer greatly for." She sounded sad. "As will you, I'm afraid, no matter which you choose."

"So what's the point of this?"

"This chance I offer you, Arthur Pendragon. The Pool has shown your paths. Which do you choose? Ignorance and Death, or Hatred and Life?"

He thought back over the two lifetimes he had been shown. If they were true, then one theme remained prevalent among them both. Merlin was magic, but he had never betrayed him. He struggled to think on his memory of this life. No longer blinded by ignorance, he could see how this moment repeated in both timelines. Merlin would go on a quest to save him, offering up his own life in exchange for Arthur's, only to be tricked.

If this event was true, when had to the two lines diverged from each other? Not until after Uther's passing, when Arthur became King. When he had been in a position to dictate, at least in part, his own fate.

In one, he had married Gwen. In the other, he had not taken a wife. In one he had remained deliberately blind to Merlin's disappearances, sudden injuries, and utter devotion. In the other, he had taken Merlin's life with his own hands in anger. A part him could still feel the stickiness of the boys blood on his hands. He clenched them, the memory making his stomach heave.

Merlin hadn't tried to magic his way out of his own death. He had accepted Arthur's judgment wholly and without reserve. _"I told you once, Arthur, that I was happy to serve you until the day I died. That remains true, even now. If my death will serve you, then so be it."_

This was it, he realized. Once he was cured, when he thought he was going to die by sacrificing his life for Arthur's, Merlin would say those words to him, and he would laugh it off as Merlin being strange, not recognizing it for the intended good bye it would be. 

In those memories, never once had Merlin given him reason to doubt those words. Not truly. If anything, his own ignorance, pride, and vanity would create more problems for the boy than he truly deserved. Nothing in those timelines ever showed him treating his servant better.

And with this revelation, he had to choose which path to take. But, Merlin had often mentioned destiny, and fate, and how much Arthur had the power to mold the future of his Kingdom. The words, often spoken through all three timelines, tickled at his mind.

"This is not a choice," Arthur growled. "It's a sentence." He had sat in Judgment with his Father often enough to know it.

The being made no move to deny it. "It is a gift. And one only I have the power to give."

"Who are you?"

"I am Sister to Fate. I am one who sees all paths, and their destinations. I am one who sees what can be changed, and what cannot."

"And the cost of this gift?" Arthur snarled. Magic always had a price. If he knew nothing else of it, he knew that to be true.

"You must live with the choice you make," she replied evenly. "There will not be another opportunity to change it. The choice you make today will write the rest of your future. You will remember, in a way, all you have seen here today, and must carry the future it holds with you always. That price, I fear, is high enough, and often impossible to bear, as young Emrys will soon discover."

Emrys. The name echoed in the memories of the two timelines. Morgana's greatest fear. A name used with deep respect and hope from the Druids and others in the circles of magic. In one timeline, many had given their lives to protect that name, to protect the destiny Emrys would give them. A cause as dear to them as protecting Camelot was to him. In many ways, perhaps they were not so different as Arthur had been lead to believe.

"Have you not changed it already by showing me this? Now?" Arthur challenged. She shook her head, sadly.

"The memories will remain, buried in your mind, only the ending clear. The why will be lost to you," she explained gently. "They will be dreams of dreams that will torment you, trying to remind you. The knowledge of Emrys, and his magic, will be taken from you until the time is upon you."

" _Just, just hold me. I know now, all you've done, for me, for Camelot, for the Kingdom you helped me build. Thank you."_

Arthur looked back to the frozen scene. A gift, she had called it. Two paths he had been shown. What if there was a third? One not discovered in the Pool? He knew in his heart he could live with neither of the choices he had been presented. Not and achieve all he, and Merlin, hoped he would. It would change him forever, and he very much feared for the worst. Like an unwelcome ghost he could never be rid of.

But the third... it meant admitting something to himself he wasn't sure he was prepared for yet. He could see its start as he stared at the boy who was about to try and give his life for him. He felt its roots take hold as animosity had slowly grown into affection, and even friendship. Where could it go, if nourished? How much could that change their futures? He had always been prideful of his courage... but this... this he wondered if he was brave enough to do. This would take a level of courage never asked of him before, and based on the timelines, would never be asked of him again. It was a leap of faith with nothing but darkness below him.

But, it had not been shown in the Pool. This path, it seemed, was outside of consideration for the Sister of Fate. It, too, came with a high price. He would be forced to judge a man for his actions, for his intentions, not from fear of what he was capable of. If he were to put Merlin on trial now, could he truly judge him evil? With no proof of anything other than a lifetime of service, protection, and loyalty beyond any he would ever know?

Uther could, he knew that. The fear of what Merlin could do would overwhelm any proof of what he had done. As much as he loved his father, he had known for some time _his_ Kingdom would be different. Fear would _not_ rule his life. He was blessed to be surrounded by people who believed in him, in all he could be. Merlin had been a big part of that. He wasn't so arrogant that he couldn't see the changes he'd undergone since the boy had come into his life. Pushing him always to do what he felt was right, supporting him, taking the abuse lobbed at him without complaint, understanding in his own quiet way that the right path was never the easier to travel. None of that was evil.

He noticed he had stopped shaking. He no longer felt unbalanced as the choice slid into his heart. It felt _right_ , to do this. There was no glory in this sort of courage, but rewards beyond imagining. He allowed himself a smile, a moment to revel in the feelings he carried now. He was confident he could put his faith in a friendship that would span ages.

"If I make a third choice?" he asked, turning from the scene to look at her. She blinked, surprised.

"A third? There is not-"

"But there is, Sister," Arthur answered, taking a deep breath. He had decided. He could live with fear of the unknown. He could not live with fear of the known. "I choose Faith. I choose to keep my knowledge as it is now. Including Merlin's secret. I choose to have the right to decide how, when, and if I deal with it. I choose knowledge over ignorance."

She blinked again, kneeling and leaning over the Pool, closing her eyes. Her eyes shot open, staring at him. "It- the path has not been written." She smiled, and if Arthur hadn't known better, he could have sworn she was _proud_ of him. "The future of this choice is destined to write itself."

Arthur nodded. "Then that is my choice."

"There is a danger, Prince Arthur, in outsmarting my Sister. While she can no longer write the future of this choice, she _can_ influence it. To keep all knowledge as you have it now may also be dangerous. It may affect your decisions in ways you cannot predict."

Arthur laughed. "That, my Lady, is very much the point. I'll take a gamble on being the man Merlin believes I can be. On my desire to do what's right. I have no doubt I'll make mistakes. At least armed with knowledge, I can protect him from them this time."

He knew he meant it. If Merlin would sacrifice everything for him, for Camelot, then Arthur would work in the shadows to protect him in every way he could. He glanced back at the scene, and had a moment to understand that there was much he would be helpless against. What was coming would hurt Merlin deeply, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. What would it be like, feeling like an actor in a play already written?

She nodded, standing. "You are a brave man, Prince Arthur. I sincerely hope you are true to your word. There are some events which cannot be undone, you understand, that have already been written. You will know them, and be unable to change them."

"But not all?" Arthur pressed. "I can still affect change to some?"

She nodded, smiling. "A rare and precious gift you have given me indeed, Arthur. To see a path, but not its destination. Already I feel the paths of those around you shifting. Some of their futures are clear, some are not. I shall watch you closely in the years to come."

Arthur stood as well, turning to her. "I am grateful for this opportunity. I won't forget it."

She shook her head. "You will not. As per our agreement, you leave here with all the knowledge you have obtained, to be recalled when needed most, and my warnings clear in your heart. May you carry forward in strength, Prince Arthur, and in knowledge."

Arthur's world went black, and when he woke, it was to see his father leaning anxiously over him.

And so, it has begun, he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: Time passage! So this takes us forward from the last Chapter (ch 4)- which took place matching the Season 1 Season Finale- Le Morte D’Arthur (the Questing Beast Episode) and now launches us forward to a few months after Uther has died._ **

**_MERLIN101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur groaned as awareness slowly crept back to him. A large part of him wanted to go back to sleep. He felt like he could sleep for weeks.

"Arthur?" an unsteady voice called quietly. Gwen was there. Memories of what had happened began to surface. Where had so many men come from so suddenly? How had they made it into Camelot without anyone knowing? Surely someone would have noticed an army so large marching through.

"Arthur, are you awake?" Gwen persisted. Her voice had an- odd- quality to it. Had he been injured so badly? He remembered taking a wound, but the how and where was vague.

"The Knights?" Arthur asked, his voice cracking from lack of moisture. He swallowed appreciatively when a cup of cool, crisp water was offered. Only then did he open his eyes and turn his head.

Gwen was there, standing next to his bedside, looking anxious while an equally anxious Sir Leon stood at the foot. This was a first. He'd been injured before. Leon had never waited on his waking. The knight looked at his feet.

"All but 2, Sire, returned to Camelot." Arthur breathed in relief. He glanced again at Gwen. Being who she was, she immediately shook her head and smiled, understanding his silent inquiry. Ah. Elyan had returned then. Her brother was safe. Still, there was a mark of grief on her face that he'd not seen since her husband and his own dear friend, Lancelot, had died. He looked around again, sensing suddenly who was missing.

"And Merlin?" Leon glanced uncertainly at the Lady Gwen, making Arthur scowl. "I won't ask again, Sir Leon. _Where_ is Merlin?"

The Knight seemed to realize there would be no rescue from Gwen. Her lips tightened into a thin, angry line. She knew the answer, of course, and was upset by it. "My Lord, the servant- he healed you... with Magic. He put up a shield that protected us from the attack. There were too many. You were mortally wounded."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. No. It couldn't be. Leon had to be lying.

There was a shadow of… something… that passed through Leon's eyes as he continued. Sadness? Grief? "He wouldn't let us leave you, to help him. He put up the shield- with him on the other side, facing the attack. There was a flash of intense light. When it faded…. The bodies were burned beyond recognition."

Arthur shook his head. This wasn't right. Not this. He didn't want to hear more. He couldn't. "No," he whispered imploringly.

Leon licked his lips nervously. Arthur was a good man, a good King. But his moods could be unpredictable. He had no way of knowing what part of his story the King was denying. He had no choice but finish, and fervently wish the only person ever able to effectively manage the King was here, magic or no magic. "There was one such body where Merlin was standing last we saw."

Arthur felt a dagger stab him with every word. Merlin was dead. Merlin had died protecting him, as he had always done. It wasn't right. Something didn't feel right. But grief clouded his thoughts. He swallowed. He had to know. "It was… it was quick, then?"

Leon hesitated. He had never lied to his King before. Could he now? He opted for diplomacy rather than outright dishonesty. "Quicker than what awaited him if he had returned to Camelot, Sire. We heard only a brief moment of screams. It… it was impossible to tell one from all."

The words hit Arthur like a punch in the gut. Yes. The Magic. Leon thought the servant would have been subject to the law. The old law, it seemed. Arthur's new soft truce with the magic users in the kingdom wasn't really being considered. He had vowed so long as they did no harm, then he would not persecute them as his father had. It was obviously believed by none.

"Merlin is dead." He had to say the words, to feel them on his tongue. It wasn't right. This was wrong. His heart hurt in a way it never had before- not even when his father died. But it was the _words_ causing it. Words he never wanted to hear. He rolled them around in his mind, forcing himself to feel beyond the horror they represented. He couldn't make them ring true. "No." Not a whisper this time. A strong statement.

He knew. In his heart of hearts, he _knew_. He would know if Merlin was dead. He would feel it on a cosmic level. Their destiny was too great. He had carried the knowledge of Merlin's secret for years. Saying nothing. Waiting for the servant to tell him. Patiently understanding the fear the boy lived in, desperately wanting to change it, but knowing it needed time. It was too soon after Uther's death. The law still, obviously, too uncertain. Those years had given him faith in the future they would build together, in a choice offered a very long time ago. Yes. He would know. Fate herself would cackle in victory if this were true. A choice made, for nothing.

Leon and Gwen both shared a concerned look. Arthur's denial, his lack of reaction, made them worry for the state of his mind. He'd recently lost so much. Perhaps the loss of the servant, traitor or no, was too much. Neither were blind to the deep bond of friendship between the two men. Anger, even, would be an acceptable reaction. Sadness. Betrayal. Anything other than the quiet conviction that simple 'no' had carried.

Gwen gently sat on the bed next to him, placing a comforting hand on his bare back. Even so, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the reality she had to make him face. "Arthur, the bodies…" she started, but Arthur violently shook his head, turning toward her.

"I would _know_ , Gwen. You know I would." He looked into her eyes, letting all his certainty and determination shine through. He could see her waiver. Of all the people in his life, he had always believed she'd understood his bond with the boy- even long before he himself had- went so much further than even brotherhood. This was a love that came from a deep and ancient place. She knew, better than any other, what they meant to each other. It was why he had let her go, had encouraged her and Lancelot. The three of them had mourned the loss of their brother, and her husband, together. For all the Knights to come and go, all the people in their lives, the three of them had been together since what had felt like to each of them, 'the beginning'. They were a family, beyond reproach or doubt. She had to understand. "You know I would," he repeated to her.

Slowly, she nodded, and he loved her all the more. She knew. It wasn't just mad hope. The bond had always been strong. With her new knowledge of Merlin's magic, and an idea of his role as Arthur's protector, she believed. As always, she accepted. "What do you want to do?" she asked calmly, firmly.

Leon gaped. "Sire…"

It was Gwen who held up her hand, silencing the knight. In her years being Lady Gwen, Queen Regent, she had learned authority, and when to use it wisely. Merlin was her best friend, a brother she loved desperately. She looked at the Knight. "In all your years, Leon, have you _ever_ known Merlin to willingly abandon Arthur?" she asked. Her eyes demanded honesty from him in a way only she could.

Leon shook his head. "Magic or no, I would die before believing Merlin _ever_ meant any harm to Arthur or Camelot." If nothing else in his life was ever certain, he knew that one truth down to the core of his being.

Arthur smiled gratefully. Leon had carried out the orders of his King- now having served two- and would have done so again had Arthur ordered the servant to the pyre. Arthur knew he would from old memories of Leon standing by while his sword delivered a quick death to a kneeling sorcerer. Duty sometimes required such things. But it would have sat bitterly with him with no proof that Merlin had ever used his magic for ill. As he witnessed the Knight's friendship toward the young man now, Arthur was suddenly glad he'd never have to put the man's loyalty to the test in this. He wasn't entirely sure the knight wouldn't have spirited the warlock away to keep him safe from Camelot's Laws. Not to mention the likely assassination he would have faced from Gwaine.

"Gather the Knights," he ordered, standing slowly. Whatever Merlin had done, it left little residue other than a vague feeling of tiredness and a mild headache. "Tell them what we're about and take only volunteers." He hesitated. "A small handful, Leon. Pick only the best of them."

Gwen stood as Leon left after a quick bow, an uncertain smile of fleeting hope on his lips. She tilted her head. "Do you know where to look?" She would have given anything to go with them. But Arthur would not stay behind, and this could take some time. It was her duty now, as he had long ago named her Queen Regent in his absence, to be there when he could not be. At least until he married. She was as much a presence in the Councils, and carried nearly as much authority as any Queen would have. More often than not, people forgot the "Regent" part of her title. Arthur was content to let it be so, in fact actively encouraging it.

A choice offered long ago, and with it had the gift of acknowledging a bond he'd never been brave enough to explore. In choosing to accept it, he had given it power, and strength. It was a tool now, to be wielded in times of great need.

Arthur closed his eyes. He focused on that instinct that told him Merlin was _alive_. It was strong, clear. And seemed to… branch. He followed, searching. He felt a wave of urgency, and a sense of pain. East. That bond led east. Back toward the attack. He opened his eyes again, moving to gather his clothes. He would often similarly follow his battle instincts, hone them, focus them. To him, this was no different.

"He's not dead… but time is precious. He would have returned on his own if he could." Arthur shook his head ruefully. "Even afraid I would chop off his head, he _would_ have returned. We'll start at the attack and follow the trail from there. Gwen… don't tell Gaius."

She looked at him in surprise. "But if there's hope…"

"There's hope now. He's in trouble. I can feel that. Feel _something_ calling to me. But if we don't-" Arthur choked on the words. But he was King. He had to look after his people. In this case, the fragile heart of an old man. "If we don't find him in time- it wouldn't be fair to give him hope and then return with worse news."

Gwen nodded, accepting. "I'll go see to the kitchens then, make sure you have everything you need."

**_MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur's heart swelled with pride when he saw Leon, Percival, and Elyan sitting their horses, waiting for him. All had been with him during the attack. All had witnessed Merlin's magic. And here they were. Ready to ride out to rescue him. He frowned, though, and looked around.

Elyan noticed. "Gwaine has been missing since the attack. He wasn't in the shield with us. We think… the heat from that blast melted bone. Chainmaille wouldn't have survived," he explained sadly. Grief pinched at all their eyes. They knew. Gwaine served Camelot, willing to defend the city with his life. He served Arthur, in his own way, unfailingly. But his first loyalty would always be to Merlin.

The reality was, Gwaine would no more have left Merlin to fight that onslaught on his own than Arthur himself willingly would have. He hoped, though. If Merlin survived, then may hap there was a chance the Knight did as well. It made Arthur feel a little better to think that whatever trouble he was in, Merlin wasn't alone.

Long before they reached the site of the attack, Arthur could smell it. Burnt and decaying flesh mixed with upturned earth. Two days this site had sat, unmolested by even carrion eaters. The decimation here had been swift and absolute.

Strange to think of Merlin, a slight and clumsy boy, as being this powerful. On the ride, he had made Leon describe the events in detail. There had been no words of a spell, no warning. One moment they were gathered around the felled King to defend him, and the next surrounded by a solid Shield of magic none of them could break. Percival, with all his strength, had desperately tried.

As they rode closer, Arthur was able to see the perfect circles. One circle of lush greenery in the exact middle and surrounded by blackened devastation. Arthur felt his heart sink a little. The middle. It was the point of origin. How could anyone have survived this?

The others dismounted slowly, as though unwilling to disturb the site. Their faces fell. In the shock of first the overwhelming attack, Arthur's injury and Healing, then the warlock's Defense… this was the first they'd really had a moment to take it all in.

"Thank all the gods in the old and new religions Merlin is on _our_ side," Percival breathed. Fervent- and a little disbelieving- nods followed. Arthur couldn't help but agree. His unique knowledge had given him some preparation, but not for this. In none of those timelines had Merlin displayed anything close to being _this_ powerful. He couldn't imagine the shock of the others who had recently just discovered the boy had any magic at all.

For himself, he was glad he had already wrestled with his feelings on the subject before seeing this. Could he have been so convinced of Merlin's goodness and innocence had he known then what he was capable of? All the strange little pieces of luck adding up once he'd taken the time to digest the information from his own point of view, dismissing his Father's beliefs. Even the hints during bigger events. Miracles. Situations where Arthur should have died and didn't. Always Merlin at his side ready to give him credit for somehow dealing the last fatal blow before getting knocked out.

Could he have as easily accepted them had he known _this_ was possible? Now he could see it and agree with Percival. With all the attacks, the magical beasts, Trolls and Fairies- somehow the fact that Merlin was always the one left standing hadn't ever connected with "powerful".

He shook himself out of his thoughts. It didn't matter. "Spread out. Try and identify who these men were, and look for signs of survivors," he ordered briskly. He remembered being swarmed. An army this size were likely hired mercenaries. A survivor would have been convenient to find out who hired them. As well wish for the moon during the day. Merlin had stood one- possibly two- against hundreds. Quick and complete annihilation had been his only option to protect those in the shield. It was a battlefield decision any commander would have made without thought. Arthur's heart pained at Merlin being forced to make that choice.

Slowly, he moved to the body closest to the green circle. There was little left to tell it _was_ a body. A few bones charred black and split with heat in a pile of ash. Leon was right. There was no way to identify it. The ground was ash. All evidence of the skirmishes that had taken place prior to his injury were gone. There was nothing to track even if someone had survived.

Arthur bowed his head. Such a huge loss of life was tragic. Not because he mourned the mercenaries, but because it had been Merlin who had done it. The brave warlock who spent years rescuing innocent rabbits from Arthur's hunting forays had killed hundreds in a single blow. The gentle boy would mourn their loss. Would bury it along with all the other pains he'd had to suffer protecting the prince then king.

He frowned, then, seeing something under a lighter layer of ash. He brushed it away, trying not to think of how much used to be human flesh. There. A small circle of green, untouched by the heat. Barely large enough for a man.

Merlin wasn't best known for his self preservation. No matter how powerful he was, strong magic took energy from the user. He knew that. Gaius had said as much, often. Three back to back huge spells… would Merlin have thought to take energy from the shield to protect himself as well? No, Arthur didn't think so. Merlin would, however, _always_ protect those he loved.

Which meant Gwaine was alive.


	6. Chapter 6

Gwaine growled through the gag as the bag was taken off his head. He blinked a few times- the evening light was still bright to eyes suddenly released from constant darkness. He felt the gag being removed, and tried to work up some saliva to moisten his mouth.

He waited patiently for the water skin he knew would be offered. Not much had been given over the last three nights, but enough to keep him going. It galled to sit and passively wait. But he had learned quickly enough. The consequences of acting out were unacceptable. It was never him who directly suffered.

He didn't dare so much as glance in the direction of the two bodies next to him, though he was desperate to check on one. The other, a young knight having recently joined Arthur's ranks, was beneath Gwaine's notice for the moment. Sir Beonin felt very strongly in favor of Uther's anti magic policies. The smaller body lying close to him was a breathing corpse as far as he was concerned.

Gwaine stifled his anger. He accepted the water meekly, and held out his hands. Last night they had allowed him to tend to the boy, guarding them closely. It hadn't taken any of their threatening descriptions of what they'd do to the other two if he tried to run. He'd never even considered escape.

He'd never abandon Merlin.

His guard hesitated, fingering the knife at his belt. "Please," Gwaine asked. "He's not worth anything dead." It hadn't taken long to figure out why they were still alive. With so many of their original party dead, the odds of receiving the amount promised were slim. And as they hadn't actually managed to capture their primary target- Arthur- they needed to recoup their losses somehow. The Slave Market would do.

The bindings were cut and the water skin was thrust into his now free hands. "If he tries any of his tricks…" the guard spat menacingly. But it was just for show and they both knew it. Merlin was barely breathing, and hadn't been conscious for more than a few minutes since the attack.

Gwaine rushed over, gently placing his hands on the servants' good shoulder, easing him onto his back, then pulling him up, supporting him in a half sitting position against his own chest. The left shoulder, ribs, and lower calf were badly burned. Lying in the mud wouldn't feel the best. Gwaine had sadly noted last night that they were past having to care about infection. Fever raged through the small body as hot as the fire that had burned parts of it.

The fever was higher. Their captors would spare no cloth for bandages and the burns oozed. Gwaine didn't dare use up the small amount of water left to him to clean them. He needed Merlin to drink.

"Come on, my friend, I need you to wake up and drink," he murmured, shaking him slightly. A tiny movement, but the cry that escaped the pale lips was a bolt to the knights heart for causing it. He wished he could leave Merlin in oblivion, but he had no choice. Blue eyes glazed with fever looked at him. "Take a sip now," Gwaine urged, happy when Merlin managed a few mouthfuls before lapsing into a coughing fit that screwed his face in pain.

Merlin took a few gasping breaths once the fit was over. "Ar…th.. ur?" He questioned weakly. As he had every time he woke.

"Is safe," Gwaine answered quickly, knowing he never had much time. "You Healed him. He'll be fine." Merlin nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost consciousness again. Always the same. Gwaine eased him back to the ground. He wouldn't wake again for some time. He took a look at the other wounds. Cuts, bruises, and likely his right wrist was broken. Some of the cuts were deep and could have used Gaius's hand with a needle, but it was the burns killing the young man, he thought. The deep gash on his forehead would certainly scar, and Gwaine was worried it was causing the unconscious state, but he couldn't be sure. Merlin had demanded an awful lot from an injured body in a very short amount of time.

Beonin shook his head and snorted. "You should let him die, you know. It would be kinder."

"Since when did you care about kindness to a magic user?" Gwaine hissed angrily. "You had better hope _you_ die. It will be kinder than what Arthur does to you when he finds out what you did."

"The King likely thinks we're all dead. Your young friend there made sure of that, and I moved quickly enough no one saw me. The other knights would have reported no survivors. If, by some miracle, the King survives, Merlin is a Traitor to the Crown. The Law is clear."

Gwaine laughed. He didn't always have the faith in Arthur that Merlin did. But if he knew nothing else to be true, it was that Arthur _would_ come. Either seeking rescue, or seeking vengeance, but he would come. And Gwaine felt sorry for anyone standing in the way. "You're new. You'll see. Princess won't say a kind word to the lad, but he'll move Hell itself for him. That's the only reason I haven't killed you myself yet. You'll wish I had. I'd have at least made it quick."

Beonin looked startled, and disbelieving. Also a little unsettled with the matter-of-fact tone in Gwaine's voice. There was no embellishment. Merely a prediction of things to come. The young Knight shook his head. "You're a Traitor too, if you continue to support him, knowing."

Gwaine refrained from letting the other knight just how long he'd suspected the truth. A part of him had always considered that Arthur knew, too. He had to. No one could be _that_ oblivious. And poor Merlin, for all his bravery, his power, was an absolute shite liar.

But he was the only true friend Gwaine had, and magic or no, Merlin had never once given him cause to regret that friendship. He would follow Arthur to the ends of the Earth, because Merlin would. He would die to protect Camelot and those within its walls because Merlin would. He would even die to protect the Princess- because Merlin would.

He glanced down at the ill boy. He might still.

**_MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur carefully crept along on his hands and knees, lightly brushing ash away. There. Footsteps. Leading to the outside of the circle. He noted the soil was cooler there than toward the middle. The spell had originated there, but the damage had started here, on the outside, working its way inward. It may have been enough time to escape, though Merlin would have stood his ground until the last possible second.

"Sire?" Leon questioned, looking down at him from outside the black.

"Look! The wave came from the outside! For the shield to hold, Merlin would have to be still alive to maintain it. He got out! Or, someone did." One man could have fit into that smaller, second shield. Only one.

Leon nodded. "There are signs of survivors outside of the circle, Sire. Some of the Mercenaries. A small handful only. But we saw signs of a struggle, and three bodies being dragged away. Further East. Toward the Slave Markets in Cenred's Kingdom."

Arthur nodded grimly. He saw Elyan coming, carrying something that had once been red. It was blackened and crimson- not from heat, but from blood. Arthur took the cloth, inspecting it without really seeing it. He didn't have to. They all knew it was the red kerchief Merlin always wore around his neck.

Arthur crumpled it in a fist, swallowing the bolt of rage that shuddered through him. "If he's bleeding, he's alive. Get the horses. We're done here."

They rode hard east as the sun slowly set. By the time they stopped for camp, the horses had well earned their rest. After attending to the poor creatures, making sure they were fed and watered, they ate a quick meal of bread, cheese and dried meat. After the damage they had witnessed, none had any desire to hunt.

Arthur took first watch, as always, while the men settled to sleep. He wanted a few minutes alone with his thoughts. Merlin was alive. He'd been sure, of course, or he would never have set out. To expect him to be unscathed was too much. Their luck didn't run like that.

It was hard to celebrate, however, when he didn't know how badly off the survivors were. They weren't equipped to really deal with anything life threatening. Gwen had managed to convince Gaius to send him with the usual hunting medical kit, explaining that Arthur needed some time away. According to her, the old man hadn't been fooled for a moment. And judging from the odd assortment of remedies, Gaius had wanted him prepared for almost anything.

If he'd ever had any illusions that his friendship with Merlin was a secret, they had been swiftly disabused. Gwen told him the head cook herself had prepared their supplies. Along with the normal Hunting fare of bread, cheese, and a little dried meat, there was dried fruits, some oats and grains. Other nutrient rich foods that might be needed if someone was needing to heal. A mixture of teas, some old remedies like Willow Bark Tea for pain. Dried, sugared lemons which were good for quick energy.

His saddlebags had fresh, clean linens wrapped in wax the Head Steward had put in. Obviously intended to be used as bandages. And a change of clothes for Merlin. Yes. Everyone in the Castle appeared to know he was going after his Servant. Equally obvious had been the knowledge that Merlin would have returned on his own if he could, which meant there was cause for concern.

Leon had told him just how many had volunteered to come with them. Over half the garrison.

And they all knew. Word had spread quickly, somehow. Perhaps a servant had overheard Leon's report to the Queen Regent, or when Elyan told Gaius of his wards fate. Impossible to tell, but they all knew. And still his saddle bags had been packed with great care, and Leon had had to explain several times why he could only take these few.

They _knew_. And they didn't care. If only Merlin knew how much he had impacted the lives he came into contact with. How much his fears of change were unfounded. Oh, there had been some unhappy with it. His Counselors weren't pleased. But as he had told everyone he was going Hunting, they could say nothing to stop him so long as he, the Queen Regent, and the Knights in the know maintained that story. Leon mentioned some ugly things that had been said by some of the Knights. He would deal with them when he got back.

"Hang on, my old friend," Arthur breathed out to the darkness of the night. "We need you."


	7. Chapter 7

**_MERLIN1010110101010101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Gwaine swore in frustration. They had just passed through Camelot's Borders. They were in Cenred's Kingdom now. Even with Gwaine and Merlin slowing them down, the Mercenaries were in a hurry to be rid of them. They'd made good time, unfortunately.

The site of the attack had been half a day from the City. Half a day to return, and even if Arthur had set out the next morning, they were already at least two days behind. More, if Arthur needed time to recover. Since they had made it this far without rescue, he had to assume at least another day or two on top of that.

They'd make their destination by this evening, he'd been told. A temporary holding while their leader went to attempt to collect their payment. Another day after that to the Slave Markets. Arthur's window was closing, quickly.

And Merlin was getting worse. His screams had kept the camp awake most of last night. Gwaine had hovered close, ready to defend should they decide he was too far gone to be of value. While they had yelled, threatened, bullied and tried everything else, they wouldn't kill him. Arthur's Personal Servant may have some value on their original contract.

They would offer nothing to quell the fever, though. No additional water, no bandages to clean the wounds. They wouldn't kill him, but they wouldn't bother to keep him alive either.

Beonin continued to try and talk his way to seeing himself released, distancing himself from the other two. It hadn't done him any favors. Having to admit that he was new to the Court and didn't know anything of Camelot's defenses beyond the obvious had likely sealed his death warrant. His sole value now was as a potential piece of meat on the Slave Market. Thankfully, he also hadn't been able to tell them much more than that Gwaine was a part of Arthur's inner circle, and Merlin, of course, knew everything there was to know about Camelot.

Noble indeed. The man embodied everything Gwaine hated about them. He desperately hoped the man lived for Arthur to find out just who had sold them out. Beonin disgusted him. The few times Merlin had been awake, the knight had delighted in telling him all the horrible things that happened to prisoner sorcerers before they went to the pyre. None true, not since Arthur became King. But in Merlin's fever-haze, he had shed tears of pain and terror, no matter how Gwaine reassured him. It was that night the screams started.

Gwaine walked into the back of his guard. He stepped back, surprised by the sudden stop. He had been lost in thought, walking automatically. He looked up. They had arrived. Ruins. Of course it would be ruins. Likely with a dungeon below. How cliché.

"Home sweet home, is it?" he asked mockingly. His guard glanced back at him, but didn't react. Fatso didn't react to much of anything, Gwaine had found. Obviously chosen for this role either because of his dim wit, or his ability to remain silent. Unlike most, he didn't seem to feel the need to boast. Gwaine thought he preferred the boasting.

He was pushed roughly into a cell, Merlin literally thrown in beside him. Only quick footwork from Gwaine allowed him to catch the servant before he hit the hard stone floor. Beonin was escorted to the cell across from them. The metal bars were old, but as solid as ever. There would be no escape. Not from the inside.

Easing Merlin down gently, Gwaine was dismayed to find the boy's breathing shallow and stuttered. There was a trickle of water leaking from the barred window. Ripping a strip from the bottom of his tunic, he wet it and applied it to the overheated forehead. Too little, too late.

"Don't give up, Merlin," Gwaine whispered fiercely. "You know he's coming for you."

**_MERLIN10010110101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur eyed the stone ruins from the cover of the surrounding trees. One man had left earlier in the morning, but it was impossible to tell how many people were left inside. Not that it mattered. He was going in anyway. He was just trying to gauge the best rate of survival.

He had promised Gwen, and himself, he'd bring Merlin home. He couldn't do that if he was dead.

He looked to Leon, who nodded, and they both retreated. Elyan and Percival gathered around them while they hashed out a rough plan. It wasn't much, but it was all they had.

**_MERLIN10010110101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Gwaine looked up, grinning. The sound of swords clanging throughout the hold could only mean one thing. He shot a satisfied smirk to Beonin- who looked surprised, and a little worried. He turned back to the youth in his arms.

"He's here. Hang on. Just a little longer, now."

**_MERLIN10010110101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur stopped, stunned at the sight before him. Gwaine was sitting in the middle of the cell, Merlin held tightly in his arms, deathly pale. And still. So, still. Tears ran unabashedly down the Knight's face. He made no effort to wipe them away despite their presence.

He silently urged Percival to be quicker with finding the right key. The tumble of the lock sliding back seemed unnaturally loud to the King's ears. Without thought, he rushed in and fell to his knees next to the two men.

Arthur hesitantly reached out to touch the pale face. "Is he-" he swallowed. He couldn't finish. Not when they'd come this far. His eyes took in the tattered clothing covered in dried blood, the burnt flesh on the left side oozing a yellow liquid, angry and inflamed, the dried blood that still stained half of Merlin's face from the gash in his head.

Gwaine shook his head. "He has minutes left," he whispered. The slowed breathing was a wet gurgling at long spaced intervals. "But enough to know you came for him, even knowing what you do. That's all he'd ever want."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. Too late. They'd arrived too late. He hadn't realized he was crying until a tear dropped from his chin into the dried blood on Merlin's face, leaving a streak as it ran down the young man's cheek.

Merlin stirred, then, as if woken by the moisture. Or perhaps he had somehow sensed Arthur's presence. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on Arthur's face. The ghost of a smile came to his face. "You… came…"

Arthur nodded, taking Merlin's hand in his. "Of course I did. You're utterly useless on your own and Gwaine thinks ale cures anything."

A low chuckle came from the young man, immediately followed by a deep, wet cough. Flecks of blood appeared on the chapped lips.

"Shhhh," Arthur soothed. "You need your strength. We're going home." He felt Merlin squeeze his hand weakly in return. It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"So… ry…" Merlin gasped out, his eyes locking with his Kings, conveying in one apology all the years of lies, of betrayals, of fear and doubt.

Arthur shook his head. The words from his vision those years ago came back to him now. "I know, now, all that you've done for me, for Camelot. For the kingdom _you_ helped me build. Merlin, my old friend, there are no words, and thank you isn't enough. Not nearly." He felt Gwaine staring at him, and didn't care. If Merlin heard one thing from his King, he needed to hear this.

Tears flowed freely from Merlin's eyes, the only emotion he had energy left to express. "Thank… you…" The harsh breath flowed for a moment, drawing out the last word. There wasn't another breath taken in to replace it, and those vividly blue eyes fluttered closed.

"Merlin?" Arthur shouted, grabbing the boys' shoulders, not caring if he hurt him more, shaking him. " _Merlin_! No. Not like this. Not here." Determined, Arthur scooped him up and ran out of the cell. He wouldn't let his friend die in a hole like this. He deserved to be outside. A son of the Earth, she had said. Let the Earth mourn him then.

He felt the knights follow him, but he didn't stop. Once he broke into the fresh air, he spotted a stream behind a large oak tree. He made his way there. Merlin had always loved the water. Laying his burden down gently, he quickly washed the blood from his face. He needed to see his face.

"Arthur-" Leon started to say, but then backed away. The King needed to say goodbye in his own way. He knew that. Percival looked crushed, and Elyan was on his knees, silently observing the two friends. Even Gwaine knew enough to stand back. He'd said his goodbyes already.

For Arthur, there was only Merlin. So young. So small to have all that power at his fingertips. "You told me once, Merlin, that you were happy to be my servant until the day you died," Arthur whispered, choking on the words as they brought a memory of another good-bye. He hadn't known it for what it was, then. "That day can't be today. There is so much we haven't done. So much yet we still need to finish."

Arthur shook his head. "You promised me that I'd never be alone. That you would be by my side, as you always were. And now you're gone. Merlin, I don't know how to face tomorrow. Where is your wisdom now? Why would you do this? There had to have been another way." It was too much, and the sob that was ripped out of him felt like it was tearing out his soul with it. "I can't do this without you."

He hugged the boy to his chest, throwing back his head and howling in despair. He knew this feeling. He'd experienced it before. In a vision. How had he ever considered that he could live through this? He couldn't breathe. His heart struggled to keep going under the weight suddenly crushing it. This wasn't fair. He had been promised a different ending. _They_ had been.

"I made a different choice!" he screamed out to the skies. "You told me this future was unwritten! That my choice did not have a destination. How is it to end in the same way, then?"

The water in the stream shimmered, then. Sunlight filtering through the trees merged to form a figure. A beautiful being made of light that he had seen before. He knew her. "You promised!" he raged at her. "All these years, letting me believe the future could be different… you lied to me!"

She shook her head sadly, kneeling down beside them. "I did not lie, young King. I warned you of a future unwritten. _You_ made a different choice. But _he_ did not. He chose to give his life for you. As he has chosen to do a thousand times over."

"You never gave him a choice," Arthur snarled. "You filled his head with destiny, with duty. This was the only choice he ever had."

She looked sadly at Merlin, as if she truly regretted what this had come to. "He gave his life for you, Arthur, from love, not duty. No one can command another to willingly lay down their life for another. Not for a crown, not for a duty. Only love can inspire such an act."

He knew that for truth. He remembered very clearly the mimic of his current grief in the vision of a life lived through Merlin's eyes. Love had always been Merlin's gift to him. One he had never had the courage to fully reciprocate. And now... it was too late. He'd been too confident in having time.

"It doesn't matter now. Everything we were supposed to do- everything we've sacrificed to make it happen- it doesn't matter. Albion is dead. The future is dead," Arthur replied quietly. He knew it was true. Only together could they have brought about the golden age promised so long ago.

He felt empty inside. He couldn't… the grief was too much. Merlin was dead. Truly dead. This time, he knew. He knew it soul deep, felt the chasm of darkness opening to swallow him. He laughed bitterly. He'd been right. He wished he hadn't been.

" _You_ are the future, Arthur, and he has shaped you into the man you are today. His destiny has been fulfilled." Her voice was so gentle, so light and melodious. Just as it had been in that cave when she'd offered him a choice. It brought him no comfort.

Emotion flickered in the chasm of emptiness consuming him. Anger. Blind, raging, anger. It lit a fire in his eyes that he didn't try to quell, so heated it dried his tears. Yes. Merlin had made him want to be better, to be the man the servant had always unfailingly believed he could be.

"But Merlin wasn't the only one who shaped who I was," Arthur whispered, finishing his thought aloud. The being of light looked uncertain, suddenly. Afraid. "I am my father's son, too." And he understood Uther now on a level he never could have before. Rolling hot anger surged in every vein. It consumed him.

Arthur looked at the being, his voice calm and as deadly as it had ever been. "If he dies, I will wage a war on Magic the likes of which will make my father's look like a pleasant holiday. In me is all the hatred and cruelty he was capable of, and all the power of belief and conviction that Merlin instilled in me. I believe this to be true with all my heart. Without him, I will hunt down every one of you and find a way to destroy you for the false hope you gave. Strike me dead now, Sister of Fate, or witness the end of everything your kind worked so hard to save," Arthur growled.

Behind him, someone gasped. He ignored it. Nothing mattered now except the young man in his arms. Not Camelot. Not the Knights. Gods help him, not even his oath to the man in his arms. The sole reason for all of that was his friend. Without him, it all tasted of ash. Without him, Arthur had no desire to be better, to be more. If magic was to punish him this way, then he would rip apart the very fabric of time itself to seek vengeance on it. He would make it feel his grief ten fold.

"Young King, do not presume you can threaten me-"

"It is no threat, Sister. Merely a warning, as you once gave me. One last shred of honor, decency and kindness left in me to gift you this. For him."

She hesitated, distracted by a loud whooshing of air. Arthur didn't need to turn around. He knew what it was. The Dragon. Come to claim his Dragon lord. Another secret Merlin died never knowing Arthur was aware of. There had been no time. Two lifetimes and years of a third lived, and there was never time.

He heard the ring of steel from the scabbards of his men, but paid them no mind. The Dragon wasn't here for them. He knew his knights. They would not react unless he did, unless the Dragon was foolish enough to directly threaten him. He was beyond reaction. The Dragon was another magical creature complicit in building a picture of a future they could never achieve.

"Where were you?" Arthur demanded heatedly, his fingers absently following the line of Merlin's jaw. How had he never seen beauty in it before? "When he needed you most, where _were_ you?"

Kilgharrah lowered his head. "He did not call me, Young Pendragon. I did not know until I felt his suffering that you were not with him."

Arthur turned then, still clutching the youth to him. "Would that have changed anything?" He shouldn't ask. But he had to know. He had to know if he could have saved his friend. A day quicker and maybe… he had to know.

"I truly do not know. I feel your anger, Arthur. He would not want this." There was ages of wisdom in that old voice, and ages of regret, mourning, and sadness. Merlin had been his friend, too. Arthur savagely pushed that awareness aside.

"I don't care!" Arthur yelled, allowing all the hatred building inside him a voice at last. "You've all lied to me. You lied to _him_. Why bond us? You had to know what the cut would do. You had to know what I was capable of." If the Dragon was shocked Arthur knew of the magical bond between them, he didn't show it.

The Dragon nodded his head. "We did know. I, better than most. But I believed Merlin could touch your heart, Arthur. I believed he could tame the fire within you that your father lit. I knew this day could come, though I hoped it would not. I had to hope that you would instead choose to honor Merlin's memory- honor the sacrifices he made to get both of you this far."

"I have no room left in my heart for guilt, Dragon," Arthur stated simply. He turned back to the woman. "Strike me down now, and have an end to it. Or rue this day. That choice _I_ give _you_. In his memory. This time, there is not another."

"Arthur-" Kilgharrah started gently. But then he blinked, and looked closer at Merlin. His eyes widened in surprise. The Dragon tilted his head at the woman. "He lives still."

Arthur immediately looked down at Merlin. Nothing had changed. He was as still as death, and growing colder to the touch. "He doesn't breathe." And he knew. He could feel it. Deep down, he had known Merlin's last breath for what it was.

"No, but his spirit remains. His heart, however weakly, flutters still. I can sense him. His magic lives."

Desperately, Arthur felt foolish hope push out his anger. "Can you save him?"

The Dragon shook his head. "I cannot. You have threatened Magic. Hasty words spoken in grief," Kilgharrah subtly reprimanded the magical woman. "But spoken nonetheless. I am bound, and do not have the ability even if I was not. However, _you_ do."

"Me? I have no magic."

"You cannot heal him as he did you, but you _can_ save him."

"Dragon," the woman warned. The creature flinched back, his great wings flapping to lift the heavy body off the ground. Kilgharrah bared his teeth, but turned to fly obediently away.

_Remember, always, Arthur, that Fate only shows us true paths. Your power comes from within, as does his. You are both two sides of the same coin._

The thought skittered across his mind. True paths? The visions? Some of it was vague now, faded after all these years. Deemed unimportant as he'd thought his decision changed it. The same coin. He might… there was something familiar about it.

' _You belong with Arthur. I can see how much he needs you. And you him. You're like two sides of the same coin', a woman's voice echoed in his memory._

' _Do you know where to look?'_

_He focused on the bond, felt it branch…_

' _Why bond us?'_

Arthur knew, then. Of course. Why else would it be there but to offer this chance? Closing his eyes, he focused on the bond as he had before. It was harder to find now, weakened. There, diminished and lax, but there. When he tried to grab at it, it slipped through his mental fingers. It dimmed more. _No. Merlin_ , he thought at it, _don't leave me. I'm not ready_. Willing all his energy into making the bond stronger, make it brighter, he pleaded with his friend. _Merlin, please. I need you. You've never abandoned me before. Don't do it now. Not when I need you most_.


	8. Chapter 8

**_AN: Merlin’s POV_ **

**_MERLIN10101010101MERLIN_ **

Merlin rolled his eyes at the antics of the knights and his King. He was pleased to see them happy, though. It had been a rough couple of months. First the loss of Uther, and then of their dear friend, Lancelot. Both still pained him, sometimes, too. He had failed both, in a way. He should have noticed the charm on Uther, and Lancelot had sacrificed himself to save not only Camelot and Arthur, but Merlin himself. Gwen's pain at the loss of her husband had been unbearable to watch. He'd been thankful when Arthur had grown closer to her, titling her as Queen Regent to help keep her busy. He thought she may be Queen in truth, someday.

Percival especially seemed to be having a difficult time with Lancelot's sacrifice. He had considered leaving Camelot, Merlin knew. Thankfully, Elyan had managed to talk him around, and had made special efforts to include him in more of his and Gwaine's fun.

But today was a good day. The sun was out, Arthur was smiling for the first time in a very long time. It had been ages since he'd been out on a patrol himself, and Merlin was, for once, glad the King had decided to go- even if it meant being dragged out too.

The laughter coming from his friends was a balm to his soul. It wouldn't last, he knew. Sooner rather than later something was bound to come along to disturb their hard won peace, but he would appreciate it for the moment.

" _Mer_ -lin," Arthur dragged out sarcastically. "Head in the clouds, I see?"

"Well," he replied without missing a beat, "they're prettier than you lot."

Percival hooted with laughter, obviously giving Merlin the win of the point in this one. Arthur frowned at them all for a moment, then smiled too. "Fetch us some water, Merlin," Arthur commanded lightly. Grinning back, Merlin grabbed the water skins from his hand. Elyan continued to chuckle, while Leon shook his head disapprovingly at all of them.

Chores. Arthur's only concession when the Knights deemed he'd lost the round. They were fairly evenly matched in the points, so far as he knew. Gwen thought it was odd that they kept score. Arthur seemed oblivious, as always. Only Sir Beonin failed to jump into the light mood, stark and serious. He was new, and this his first patrol. Merlin thought he might be a little nervous, so at first had tried to include him. After a few rebuffs, however, he gave up.

"C'Mon, Mate. I'll come with you," Gwaine offered, throwing an arm around Merlin's shoulders. "After a half a day with these uglies, I need some decent company."

Smiling warmly at his friend, Merlin led the way to the stream tucked behind a few rows of trees. At only midday, they shouldn't really be stopping, but this area had recently been patrolled. They were all keen to enjoy the lightness when it was made available. They had all needed this.

He listened happily as Gwaine recounted a tale of a recent drinking binge he'd had and somehow found himself almost married. Merlin never knew if half the stories were true, but he didn't care. Gwaine lived for adventure. There wasn't much that could keep him down for long. A master swordsman that nearly surpassed Arthur's skill, the rogue loved a good, honest, bar fight. Merlin asked questions in all the right places, laughing where needed, gaping in astonishment in others.

He looked up as Gwaine stopped suddenly, putting a quick hand on Merlin's shoulder, a signal long between them that requested silence. Frowning, he followed Gwaine's gaze. Across the stream there was a hill, and the knight was focused on it.

Putting the water skins down, they moved in unison to cross. Something was over that hill. Arthur would never credit Merlin with the stealth he was capable of when he had to be. Perhaps that was for the best. He needed to keep an image in order to protect his other secrets.

There, below the hill, was a large gathering of men, marching steadily directly toward them. Too many, Merlin thought. How had they gotten so many into Camelot? Surely someone must have seen them. He glanced behind him when he heard a sound from the stream.

"Oy, you two! What are you…." Beonin's voice carried loudly toward them, not paying the slightest heed to their gestures for silence. When a couple of the men near the front looked in their direction, Merlin didn't hesitate. His eyes glowed, and the young knight's voice was silenced. It would only last a moment or two. They had to retreat.

"Gwaine," he whispered urgently. "We have to warn the others."

Gwaine looked at him, then looked at the young knight behind him frantically clutching his throat. "There's no time. We couldn't make it back first." He drew his sword. "Go, Merlin, and do what you can to protect them. I'll buy you some time."

"Gwaine-"

"Go!" Gwaine roared, standing his full height, moving over the hill. Merlin watched for only a second before crying out in frustration and whirling into a dead run. He ignored the glaring Beonin, his eyes flashing as he released the spell. It was pointless now.

"Arthur!" He called out once he was within hearing range of their stop. "They're coming, Arthur!" But there were other sounds filtering to him now. The unmistakable clash of swords. Was there a second army?

Running into the clearing, he saw them. An advance Scout of perhaps 30 men. Now down to 10, despite the knights being outnumbered. There was no time to celebrate. The clash of swords got louder behind him too. He looked around for Arthur, and saw him. And saw the man coming up behind the already battling King.

"No!" Merlin roared, sending the man sneaking up on Arthur flying. He didn't care who saw him. They weren't going to win this fight. He knew that. Men poured over the hill from the opposite direction of the stream. Almost as many as were behind him.

How? He moved forward, intent on his goal, picking up the sword of a fallen attacker. After all these years of battles with his King, he wasn't quite as completely useless with a sword as he had once been. Slashing his way through the growing number of attackers swarming into the clearing, he fought to get to Arthur's side.

Pain seared across his right wrist as his current foe brought the hilt of his own sword onto it, hard. He felt bones shatter. His suddenly numb hand dropped the sword. He stumbled back just in time to miss having his head lopped off, but felt a score open across his forehead.

It didn't matter. He had to get to Arthur. His head felt fuzzy, but he ignored it. His eyes flashed a number of times, tripping either those in front of him or those near his friends, heating sword hilts, knocking down trees branches, or simply knocking their enemies back. Each time he focused on enemies near his King or friends, he took wounds himself. He couldn't protect all of them as scattered as they were.

The battle raged on around him, and Merlin knew he'd have to make a choice. Protect his friends, or protect Arthur. He couldn't do both. At the rate their enemies were cutting into him-nothing overly serious so far, but he was starting to feel the accumulated blood loss- he would be useless to both soon.

It was a never ending sea of enemies. For every three the knights and Arthur brought down, more came over the surrounding hills. Where? How?

Arthur. That choice would always be Arthur. In his heart, he apologized to Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine. He started to lift his hand to cast one last spell, when two things happened. A blade slipped through his own ribs, sliding in deep, and another slid into Arthur's back.

Merlin watched helplessly as Arthur's sword fell from his hands, and both men fell to their knees. Merlin saw Leon- closest to their King- finish off the cowardly attacker, even as Arthur fell sideways. Ignoring the pain blossoming through him, Merlin forced himself up and into a run. He was done with being subtle. His magic let loose with bolts of fire, designed to strike down those battling the knights. He needed them all together. He needed them to protect Arthur if he failed.

Almost as one, they turned toward their downed King, reaching him even as Merlin slid to his knees beside him. He didn't need to look to know the wound had been a mortal one, but he did anyway.

"Arthur?" he asked. For some absurd reason he felt like he needed permission to do what he was about to. Not that it mattered. He would have done it anyway. He turned to the knights. "Protect us," he shouted, placing his hands on Arthur's chest, and closing his eyes. It never occurred to him they wouldn't obey.

He let his magic explore, let it find the wound. The blade had pierced Arthur's heart. He could heal it, after a fashion. He took a deep breath, wincing as his own injury protested. His magic tried to move to heal it, but he forced it back to Arthur. Concentrating hard, he saw his magic repair half the wound before it was too exhausted to continue. He'd used it a lot to get here.

_Here_ , Merlin breathed, lending his own life force and energy to aid it in its task. _He must live_ , he told it. He was dizzy, but he ignored that too. Metal clashed around him, and he didn't hear it. _He must live_. His only thought, his only awareness.

Never proficient at healing magic, Merlin cursed his own limitations. Even lending every ounce of strength he could muster wasn't working. There had to be another way. Yes. He couldn't heal. But he could redirect.

Without hesitating, he sent the command to his magic. It obeyed him slowly, absorbing the remaining injury and putting it on himself. He cried out- a small nick in his own heart compared to the gaping cut it had been on Arthur's, but it still hurt.

He sat back, breathing heavily, exhausted. He looked around. There were no more men pouring into the clearing, but there were hundreds of them left, trading off to rest and then take on the circle of knights that stood around the two men on the ground.

He caught Leon staring at him. Sadness looked back at him, regret, confusion. He didn't care. Arthur would live.

"Merlin-" Leon started, but he interrupted the knight's obvious intent by standing.

"Arrest me when- _if_ \- we make it safely back to Camelot. Arthur will be fine. He needs rest, though, and fluids. Lots of them." He winced as he took another breath. He was so tired. But this wasn't over yet. They were still in danger.

He ducked between Leon and Percival, a golden flash shoving away their current opponents. His action noticed, their enemies stopped taking turns and rushed the circle. Flinging up his hands, Merlin created a shield to protect them. It would hold, for a time.

The knights looked shocked for a moment, then realized he was standing outside the shield. Percival began to hit it with his sword, realizing to some degree what Merlin's intentions were. They were shouting at him, though no sound carried through the barrier. He felt a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with his injuries. They had seen. They knew. And still they looked grieved for the sacrifice he was about to make. He offered them a small smile- a silent goodbye- and turned back to the rushing horde, stumbling a little. One last thing, he told himself. He needed to hang on for this one last thing.

Closing his eyes, he took up the last reserves of his magic, gathering it into him. There was no control. He had only one Command. _Destroy_. Arthur had to live.

"Merlin!" He heard Gwaine's shout, even as the man fought to clear a path to him. Merlin realized in horror that he was outside the shield. But it was too late. He had already asked too much, and it was too late to stop what he had started.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and as his magic loosed itself into the spell. The screaming started almost immediately. He forced his eyes open to see what he had done. He was taking lives. He would watch. But even he couldn't see through the blinding light.

Moments later, he felt two things. One was Gwaine's presence beside him, grabbing his arm, the second was an intense heat. Without thinking, he threw up a weaker version of the shield he was maintaining behind him around Gwaine.

He cursed as the knight, obviously guessing what he was doing, pulled him into a tight hug so that the shield covered them both. It weakened the shield in some areas. Merlin felt the skin on his exposed left shoulder, chest side, and calf bubble, crack and sizzle in the heat. He couldn't help it. He screamed. But it didn't matter. Gwaine was safe. They were all safe.

And then the heat was gone. He wasn't strong enough. The shield around the two collapsed. He wanted to fall with it, but Gwaine grabbed him again and pulled him forward. Merlin didn't think the Knight could see where he was going anymore than he could. That light was still bright. For a brief moment he was oddly curious about how long it would last.

The pain caused by his stumble brought his thoughts back to the current need. He was so tired. He needed to rest. To stop. He felt the shield behind him still standing strong. Whatever he had released, he couldn't feel it drawing on him anymore. It must be over. But he couldn't see. He would hold the other shield until he could see. He had to be sure.

Gwaine continued to pull him forward. Neither had spoken a word. The swordsman must be as exhausted as he was, he thought. He was dizzy. It was getting hard to think. He had demanded too much, from both his worn and damaged body as well as his worn and abused magic. He stumbled again, and this time Gwaine pulled his arm around his shoulders- taking on a fair amount of Merlin's weight- to keep him on his feet and moving.

"Keep going, Mate," Gwaine gasped raggedly. Merlin no longer understood fully why they had to keep moving. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh plagued every breath he took. He had done something absolutely awful, and he was sad that it had taken those lives. He would do it again, he knew, if it meant saving his friends, his king. But he felt like the monster Uther had always accused all magic users of being. So much of his soul sacrificed on the Pendragon altar.

The light was starting to fade now. Frowning, Merlin realized he had lost track of time. Now he'd never know. That was annoying. He looked back. The light was dimming around the center- yes. He could just barely see the top of the shield. Safe. They were safe. He was trying to remember how to turn it off- he couldn't think, and it was hard to breathe. Pieces of him were shifting inside, hurting him. The burns, along with the various cuts were making themselves known.

Suddenly, he felt himself going forward in a downward motion. He and Gwaine were both falling. He moaned as he hit the ground, hard. Another groan from his friend let him know the knight hadn't done so any less gently.

Gwaine was on his feet in a flash, his sword out and seeking enemies in the now quickly fading light. Merlin knew he should get up. But- it felt so good to rest, to stop. He was used up. Breathing took energy he'd never realized before.

"Who's there?" he heard Gwaine shout.

Beonin stepped into view, snarling, his sword also out. "Move aside, Gwaine. I don't want to hurt you."

In a moment, Merlin felt both their gazes rest on him. Unexpectedly, Gwaine growled, while Beonin raised his sword. Why? He didn't understand. He needed to think, to get up, to help. He didn't remember why. He just needed to rest. Then he'd remember.

"You won't hurt him, either," Gwaine insisted. "You'll surrender now."

"He's a sorcerer! A traitor! A snake hidden to strike at our King when most opportune. Now, Gwaine, I will ask only one more time- stand aside," Beonin hissed. And Merlin knew. He had seen. Of course he had. Merlin himself had all but shouted his best kept secret from the towers of Camelot.

"Then he's Arthur's to deal with. I don't want to do this, Beonin. But understand, I will if I have to," Merlin heard the rogue promise. No. This wasn't right. Not knight against knight. Brother against brother.

"St'p" he tried to say, but it came out as a croak. So tired. And still being drained. The shield. He had to let it go. Somehow. _He must live_ , echoed back to him, resisting his command to stop.

It didn't matter. The two men were so busy facing off against each other that they didn't hear the others surrounding them. Brown and black leathers. No bright red of Camelot. So some of the mercenaries had survived. Unfortunate, at this moment, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. Every life spared was always measured against those he had taken in duty.

"Lower your swords, gentlemen. We outnumber you, and it looks like your little pet sorcerer is about as drained as can be," a voice called from the group. Both men had noticed them, moving as one to defend- Beonin himself, and Gwaine to defend Merlin.

They were outnumbered, though, at least 3 to one. Merlin tried to call up a spark of his magic to defend them, to protect them, but he failed. The leader had been right. He had nothing left. He shuddered as the walls protecting him from his pain shattered. It overwhelmed him. Nausea washed over him. His head hurt so much. Nothing left to give.

"Take the Sorcerer," Beonin called out. "And we'll call it a fair fight and go our ways, as was my agreement with your Master."

"And the other knight? He doesn't look as ready as you to give up. No. This was supposed to be easy money. No one mentioned a powerful sorcerer. We were hired to take a King and his court Fool, a doer of tricks. Do you understand your pet took out almost 500 men by himself? Burned to ash where they stood. No, no I wouldn't call that a fair fight at all."

"You lay a hand on that boy and I promise I'll remove it for you," Gwaine threatened. Merlin tried to call out a warning to his friend, but it was too late. The other knight had clubbed his skull with his sword hilt. No!

"That will shut him up while we negotiate," Beonin spat. "You entered Camelot without contest. Do you think that was all done of your Master's cleverness?"

The leader shook his head, turning to spit on the ground. "Negotiate, is it? I don't think so." Merlin felt no such need to warn Beonin about his own clubbing. Arthur would be terribly disappointed in the man, he thought. Arthur held the knights to such high standards.

He saw someone kneel in front of him. "Now you, lad, may be worth something. Pretty banged up though. Looks like you got a little caught in your own spell." The man patted Merlin's burned side with his knife, forcing a cry from the young man. He stood up again. "Take them all," he ordered. "I don't think we'll see a payday on this one, so we'll have to fetch it from the Slave Markets."

Arthur, Merlin thought, closing his eyes at last. At least Arthur was safe. 


	9. Chapter 9

Merlin drifted in a haze of pain. He didn't know for how long. The first time he came fully to his senses, he was pleased to see Gwaine. So he was safe. Arthur? Was he safe? Oh good. Then he could return to the darkness.

He was so tired. He didn't know why. He knew he was getting weaker. He knew his magic was struggling to keep him alive. He didn't think he cared any more. Anything was better than this world of pain. Why didn’t he let go? Gwaine. Yes. He had to stay alive for his friend. He had to protect him. Though he didn't seem to be doing much of that.

Arthur was safe. He needed to hear that often, it seemed. He wanted to ask more of Gwaine the short time he was awake, but always darkness pulled him back down. So much of his energy was focused just on breathing. He'd wake up hot, cold.

And then they had started. The horrible visions of what waited for him in Camelot. Arthur was safe, but he couldn't accept Merlin's magic. His years of lies. And he couldn't explain. Couldn't tell his King the truth. He could scream, though, as the fire licked at his feet, then his legs. He could cough on the thick black smoke choking him. Burning to death, he decided, was a slower process than it looked. How particularly cruel of Uther.

In other visions, Arthur had him beaten. In some, he even beat him himself, sometimes looking smug and satisfied, others looking icy cold and duty driven. Always, though, were the accusations of the lies. The broken trust between them. Merlin screamed out that he was sorry. That he had never meant to hurt Arthur, his best friend. It had been necessary to be able to continue to protect him.

Arthur always sneered, insisting the only thing he had needed protection from was Merlin himself. On and on those visions went, never giving him peace. He longed for the quiet of the darkness again. He could do it, he thought finally. If he only stopped focusing on breathing, then he could end it.

But then Arthur was there, _really_ there. Merlin was awake. He could _feel_ Arthur's hand in his. Arthur had come for him, as he'd promised a long time ago he always would.

_Arthur,_ he thought, _I'm so sorry. You have to know. You have to believe I never wanted to hurt you. I hated lying to you. But it was for the best, don't you see? So many choices we had to make. None of them fair. I couldn't be another choice for you. I wouldn't._

_Arthur, I'm sorry. I have to go. I have to leave you behind. You kept your promise, but I have to break mine. I was truly happy and honored to serve you. I know you'll be the King Camelot so desperately needs._

Merlin felt tears. _I never thought to hear you say thank you. I wish you hadn't now. I can't stay, Arthur. I'm sorry, but I can't. My time is ending. Look at the man you've become, my friend, my love. If I had to do it all over again, I would. I wish I could make you see that. Thank you, for letting me serve. For opening your heart to me. And for opening mine to you._

Darkness was coming again. This time Merlin knew it would keep him. He had nothing left to give. He'd received a rare gift in this goodbye. He was ready. And so, so tired. He welcomed it. He willingly surrendered his shattered body to it.

_Merlin, please. I need you. You've never abandoned me before. Don't do it now. Not when I need you most_.

Merlin paused. Arthur? No. I'm not abandoning you. I'm just so _tired_.

But he felt… something… calling to him. More than calling. It was _commanding_ his return. He looked longingly at the darkness. Need called to him. Arthur's need. He had never failed to respond to that deep call. It came from within, his magic instinctively resonating with it, drawing on it, fluttering weakly.

Strength was flooding into him, golden and pure. Arthur's strength. Wearily, Merlin stopped fighting it. Arthur would not let him go. Was demanding still more from him. As that need pulled at him, he felt too the great anger, the desperation, and the grief that flowed in that offering of strength. He saw the ages of ruin that anger would bring. He had caused those things.

The Anger he feared. That anger- that was his Father’s. It would lay waste to the world, it was so powerful. He'd thought his friend beyond that. Need called to him, stronger now than ever. He was needed to calm that fire before it became a storm. A thousand years of magic cried out to him to answer. He could feel ancient magic mixing with his own, determined to return him to the world he had just left.

A world of pain, of loss, of suffering, and of betrayal.

A world of friendship, of love, of hope, the magic whispered back, tempting him.

A world with Arthur, who had come for him even now knowing a part of his secret. The darkness was fading, but he no longer watched it go. With effort he took back his body, he forced air into his lungs once more. He forced his heart to beat a little faster.

_Hang on, Arthur_ , he thought. _I'm coming home_.


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN: Minor Slash bits ahead! Non Graphic- barely worth a warning.** _

_**MERLIN101010111010MERLIN** _

"Please, Merlin," Arthur whispered, pouring more of his own energy into the bond. "I swear, I'll be the man you think I can be. The man you deserve for me to be. I am done hiding. Done being a coward. Just, give me the chance. Please, come back and I'll prove it to you with every future breath I take," he pleaded.

Suddenly, Merlin arched in his arms, drawing a deep, gasping breath. It sounded painful, and harsh, and it was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever heard. He held his own breath while he waited for Merlin to expel the air he had taken in, then draw in another.

Merlin was breathing.

The bond between them flared to life again, bright and fierce. Arthur put his hand to the boys' throat, feeling for the fluttering pulse under his fingertips. It was there. Weak, so very weak- there was still much work to be done- but it _was_ there. The fever heat that had faded began to return. He couldn't stop the mad, desperate laugh that turned into a sob of relief. Merlin had managed the impossible yet again.

"Gwaine, Elyan," Arthur called urgently. "Make a litter. He won't be able to ride. Leon, fetch me Gaius's kit."

He heard the scrambling behind him, never taking his eyes off the slow, but blessedly steady, rise and fall of the chest in his arms. He heard disbelieving bouts of laughter from them. The sounds of joy. Another miracle. They didn't understand or know half of what had just happened, but they accepted the gift for what it was.

"Do you still offer me that choice, King Arthur?" The crystalline voice chimed.

He had forgotten her. He pursed his lips. The all-consuming anger had fled him completely. But he knew, with the clarity of hindsight, that he had meant every word. He had not lied. He could not have. Not with Merlin cooling in his arms. He brushed sweat and blood soaked hair from Merlin's eyes. He wanted to see them when they opened.

"I won't apologize," Arthur said, firmly. "If you would take my life in exchange for the one returned to me, then it is a price I will gladly pay, Sister." And he meant that too, he realized. "A thousand times over, I would pay it."

He looked at her then, expecting to see anger, or hatred. She was a messenger of Fate, after all, and not accustomed to being threatened. But he saw only patient understanding. Grief could drive a man mad, he knew. Another lesson he'd desperately needed to learn. He'd needed to understand Uther's blind hatred when it came to magic. He'd needed to understand so he would not repeat.

A part of him felt ashamed that he had. If the Dragon hadn't offered hope, if Merlin was still cold in his arms, he would have become his father, only so much worse. Merlin would be disappointed in him. And that thought made his breath catch. More than letting down his people, his knights, he could not live with disappointing the man who sacrificed so much to believe he could be so much more.

"Remember this lesson, Pendragon. That is the price magic will exact from you. Remember that it was mankind that did this, not magic. Evil has many forms. You must be wary of the bond you share. You each have within you great power. Those powers can be tied to the fragile emotions of man. That balance is required," she intoned. "And remember always the choices _both_ of you have made. He is no more capable of accepting your death than you his. Love has bonded you. Hatred can break it."

Arthur nodded, heeding the warning. Fate wouldn't always be there to teach. The next time he forced Merlin into a position to sacrifice himself, he had to accept the boy would do it without a single thought to those he left behind.

He looked over when Leon knelt next to him with the not so simple medical kit. He had dragged Merlin back from the edge, but the Dragon had been right. He wasn't able to heal him. Merlin's injuries still posed a danger to him. He set about cleaning them as best he could, paying no attention when the light beside him faded.

Leon- good, solid, unshakable- sat quietly beside them. Helping where he was needed. If he realized Arthur still hadn't let the servant out of his arms, he said nothing. If he noticed that Arthur's hands were shaking as he worked, he said nothing. About Arthur's howling rage and grief, he said nothing.

When Merlin was bandaged, and carefully moved to the litter, Leon looked at his King. "He won't survive to Camelot, Sire."

"I know." Arthur ran a hand over his face, thinking. "We'll take him to Ealdor. I know his secrets. Perhaps it's time he discovered one of mine."

**_MERLIN10101010110MERLIN_ **

Merlin blinked, the room a little too bright for his sensitive eyes. He heard someone shift beside his bed. His unusually _soft_ bed. Not his, then. The room had a feeling of space in it. Definitely not his. Not Camelot. He drew a hesitant breath, and continued to try and open his eyes. So bright.

Whoever was beside him seemed to realize the problem, and jumped up. Within moments, the bright room was dimmed to a single candle stand burning in the far corner. He blinked again, this time able to open his eyes even as he felt the bed dip beside him.

"Merlin?" An anxious voice called quietly. Of course, who else could it be but Arthur?

"Ar…" his voice cracked, and he swallowed, trying to work some moisture into his mouth, closing his eyes again. He felt so weak. So tired.

He felt Arthur's gentle hands at the back of his head, the solid arm across shoulders, easing him up slowly, pulling him until his forehead rested on Arthur's shoulder. The hand at his back left for a moment, gathering thick pillows behind him, then slowly easing him back into a supported sitting position.

He heard water being poured from a pitcher on the table next to him, and a cup was pressed to his lips. He swallowed, then eagerly tried to take more, frustrated when it was offered to him only in small sips.

"Slowly, Merlin. I know you're thirsty, but you have to take it in slowly," Arthur explained, keeping his voice soft. Did he somehow know about the ache pounding through Merlin's head? He seemed to understand a lot. That hand was still supporting the back of his head as he drank.

The water helped clear some of the fog from his mind. He was weak because he'd been sick. Lingering pain blossomed through him, but he remembered it being worse. He had healed some, then. Time had passed.

He desperately wanted to keep drinking in the refreshing liquid gold, but his stomach was full now. He turned his head away slightly from the next offering. Arthur returned the cup to the table.

"Thank you," Merlin murmured, letting his head fall back into the supporting pillows. He opened his eyes again, seeing his King sitting, tense, beside him on the bed. The rather large bed. Surely he wasn't in Arthur's room? He looked up, saw a wooden ceiling, and wooden walls. Not Arthur's rooms, then. He had spent enough hours scrubbing those brick walls and floors to know.

"Are you… how are you feeling?" Arthur asked, stumbling over his question. Merlin knew him well enough to know Arthur was barely clinging to control.

"Alive," Merlin answered promptly, turning his gaze back to his friend. "Thanks to you." He had yet to determine if that was a good thing, but it was definitely a start.

Arthur bowed his head, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding forever, and Merlin felt the hand that had moved from supporting his head to lay on his chest- over his heart- begin to shake. The King's entire body began to shake, and small, soft, sobs began coming from the hunched figure. "So close, Merlin. You _died_. And you were so sick," Arthur whispered. This was the first time in a long while Arthur was able to feel sure his friend would live.

Arthur found himself overwhelmed. Merlin was here. Was alert for the first time since he'd died. Weak, and obviously confused, but _here_. The relief that washed over him was as overwhelming as his grief and anger had been. He couldn't breathe through it. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing freely. All the fear, all of the dread, he let it go, unable to spare the energy to contain it any longer. He had almost lost so much...

He felt Merlin push himself up, knew it was causing the younger man pain, and couldn't find it in himself to stop him. When he felt Merlin near him, he put his hands to the young man's face, drawing their foreheads together until they rested against each other, his thumbs running over the edges of those chiseled cheekbones while grasping the raven black hair on the back of his head.

He needed this. Merlin was real. He could _feel_ his skin touching his own. He was sharing the breath that had once stopped. His exhausted muscles shook harder. This, this had almost been taken from him. More. He needed more. He wrestled with it, trying to subdue it.

"Arthur, the Knights…" Merlin murmured, conscious of Arthur's pride in his reputation.

Arthur tightened his hold. "I don't care," he ground out shakily. "By all the gods, I don't care." And he truly didn't. Let all of Camelot walk into this room now, witness the intimate position the two men were in, and he didn't care. He was done hiding. Done pretending. He would keep his promise. "I lost you, Merlin," he whispered, tears coming fast and furious now. "I _lost_ you."

Merlin's heart melted as he reached up to grab the wrists of the hands holding his face. Arthur had been strong, until now. It was time to let go. To let himself feel everything that he had shoved inside to continue to do what was best, to _be_ the King. It was just the two of them, now, in this small world. No King, no servant. Bonded by something greater than either of them. Two beating hearts that had suffered greatly, but somehow overcome the odds against them.

He sensed Arthur's need. It was as familiar to him as his own skin, a sense as built into him as taste or smell. He wasn't sure what it was his friend needed, but whatever it was… "Take it, Arthur," he offered quietly, meaning it. Always, whatever Arthur needed, he would gladly give. His death had broken something inside his King, and he would pay any price to give it back to him. He felt Arthur hesitate, trying desperately to pull himself together, to deny whatever it was he needed so desperately. "Take it," he repeated with every ounce of conviction he could muster.

He wasn't entirely surprised when he felt Arthur's quivering lips surge to meet his own. Gentle, at first, then stronger, taking all that Merlin had freely offered and more. He tasted Arthur's salty tears on them and didn't care. His body screamed in painful protest, and he didn't stop. Nothing else existed save for Arthur's need. He gave willingly all he could.

Arthur poured every emotion that had overwhelmed him into that kiss. He reveled in the feel of the younger man's chapped and rough lips. It didn't matter. Merlin was _real_. Merlin was here, with him, giving all that he asked and giving still more. "I'm sorry," Arthur whispered in between breaths. After each apology his lips begged for more. And each time he asked, Merlin answered, without hesitation, without thought.

Slowly, he felt his shaking ease as he convinced himself that it was real. That the Sister of Fate had spoken truth. Love was their bond, and love was their future. All the secrets of the past didn't matter. The worlds of propriety and class and proper place fell away. This was the leap he had begun to take so many years ago in a cold cave. There was only Arthur and Merlin. Two sides of the same coin. Connected now in a way only they held the power to destroy. In this one kiss, the foundations of Albion were born.

His tears dried, and only once he had taken all he felt Merlin could give did he back slightly away, their foreheads still together. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Always, Arthur," Merlin promised.

**_MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN_ **

Hunith and Gwaine backed stealthily out of the room. They had heard the two men speaking and had come, ready to fetch anything either needed. Neither had expected to walk in on the intimate scene. Once well cleared, they looked at each other, each trying to judge the others' reaction to what they had witnessed.

Finally, Hunith smiled. "It could never have come out any other way, could it?"

Gwaine shook his head. "Not with those two."


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur smiled as Hunith placed a plate of food in front of him. He was secretly glad that she had retained the cook he'd sent when this "Hunting Lodge" had been commissioned. He thought he understood why Merlin was so thin. The woman's heart was pure gold, her wisdom without doubt, but her cooking skills left much to be desired.

He smiled to himself. It was such a mundane thought. Normal, for the first time since he had woken to find Merlin missing. The servant was sleeping now, resting, their shared emotions having drained both. There would be questions to come, on both sides. But that was for the future. One that Arthur was now certain of. Merlin would live. It had been a long, exhausting battle with the illness caused by infection, with the wounds that had been much more serious than Gwaine had reported to him. But at long last, Arthur felt like he could breathe again. He didn't feel like he was slowly suffocating anymore.

It would take more time still before Merlin was ready for the ride to Camelot. Arthur didn't mind the wait. Once they had arrived in Ealdor, he had sent Elyan and Percival back to Camelot to deliver the news that they had recovered their lost friend. He had penned a personal letter to both Gwen and Gaius, explaining his reasons for lying to everyone, explaining what he knew of Merlin's ailments as best he could, and apologizing. He had made it clear they would be staying in Ealdor until Merlin could travel safely, which he would be informed of by the new Healer he had also stationed in the village.

Buying the parcel of land that was Merlin's home village had been a stroke of genius on his part, he thought. Merlin may fight for Camelot, call it his home, but he would always have roots here. Taking advantage of the running of a royal house- even Cenred's- he had used Clerics to negotiate it. Ealdor was of no strategic value to the King, and the selling and purchasing of land was beneath him. Especially as this meant this particular parcel would be paying taxes for the first time.

Of course, so as not to raise suspicion, he hadn't been able to purchase it under his name. Merlin didn't know it, but in title he had been a minor Lord of the Land for some time now. Arthur had commissioned the building of the home they now occupied. A small building, in comparison to some of his other "hunting lodges", but it held a bedroom each for him and Merlin- connected, of course- and a small indoor barracks for any Knights he may be traveling with, as well as additional servants quarters.

He had also commissioned a large and luxurious bedroom for Hunith to dwell in. He had been, in fact, quite upset on his arrival here to realize she had taken up residence in one of the Servant's Quarters, small rooms designed to hold no more than a small bed, table, and chest for clothing. The rooms for the permanently stationed servants- a cook, a stable master, a steward, and a small host of servants for cleaning- were slightly more well equipped.

Hunith, of course, ran the House. When he sent the Steward he had hired, Arthur had been sure to make that very clear. She was, in his mind, the Lady of the House and was to be obeyed with alacrity, no word save his own to be held higher. He hoped Merlin would be able to talk her into taking the bedroom he had prepared. It made the other staff uncomfortable for her to share their space, but nothing he said would change her mind. Nor would she deign to wear the clothing that Gwen frequently gifted her, fond of the motherly woman in her own right.

"So, Princess," Gwaine intoned in between bites, drawing Arthur out of his thoughts. He saw Hunith looking at him with sympathy, and a concerned look. He smiled and patted the hand on his shoulder. He cherished her, he would admit. She had treated him like family from the moment he first laid eyes on her. It was not hard to tell where Merlin got his compassion from. "He's awake, then, is he?"

Arthur nodded. "He was. Armand says he'll sleep a lot now, but he'll recover." Gaius was the best healer Arthur knew. But he had scoured the land to find the second best. The wage he offered was ridiculous and impossible to turn down. While not what he had intended this lodge to be for, he was incredibly grateful for the man's skills now.

Hunith leaned over and hugged him, surprising him. "Thank you, Arthur, for all you've done. And for bringing him here."

The King delighted Leon and Gwaine with his blush, but they didn't tease him about it. Not in front of her, at least. The very first thing Hunith had done when they arrived was send Leon running for the Healer, and Gwaine to fetch water, despite the few servants working around the house. And they had gone. Her tone, much like any Royalty, left no room for disobedience, despite class distinction. A mother's tone never did.

"Can I sit with him, Arthur?" Gwaine asked, scraping up the last of his meal. "You've been at his side for days. You need to rest too."

Arthur automatically went to deny the request- surprised that Gwaine had made it all. But then, both of his Knights seemed to have sensed his need to be with his friend. Neither had interfered much, coming only when Hunith sent them so Arthur could sleep- and only because they were more afraid of disobeying her than him. But he felt Hunith's hand squeeze his shoulder, and found himself nodding at the rogue instead.

He watched him disappear into Merlin's room, a tiny wave of disappointment in him. Armand had been very clear on no more than one visitor at a time unless they were called for.

"You were not the only one grieving, Arthur," Hunith said with compassion. "He needs to see too. "

Surprised again, Arthur nodded. Of course. He'd been selfish. Gwaine loved Merlin too, and just as fiercely, in his own way. He remembered the joy he'd barely paid attention to when the servant had drawn that first, awful, beautiful breath. He had done his Knights, his friends, a great disservice in assuming he was the only one who had gone through the hell of watching Merlin die.

Hunith had never asked for the full details. She knew, somehow, that something precious had almost been lost. That her son had almost never returned. She would need her time too, he knew. He was willing to give it. The war had been won. Now there was just recovery, and rebuilding. They had time.

With Merlin on the mend, it was time he turned his attention to the root of the attack, and to the events that happened during it. There were grave decisions he'd have to make before his return to Camelot, and he was content to contemplate them while in the peaceful setting of Ealdor. Beonin had also returned to Camelot with Elyan and Percival- naked and tied to a horse.

He wasn't sure who had rescued him from the cells- his entire focus had been on Merlin- nor who had tied him to a horse to keep him from running. Arthur hadn't considered even to question it until they had reached the safety of Ealdor. Nothing else had mattered to him save the wavering source of life on the litter.

Once Armand had ejected them from the room, Gwaine had given his report, informing Arthur of Beonin's actions and betrayal. Apparently, the man had also made some comments to Leon about Arthur's attentions to Merlin, and it was Leon who had released- and subsequently restrained- the young knight.

It seemed safest to send him back under guard. Arthur- having lived for what seemed like hours on the edge of a rage that would have laid waste to the entire magical world- had deemed it best to let the knight cool his heels in the Camelot cells while his own blood cooled. He had been on the edge of doing something he knew Merlin would disapprove of. He needed to talk to the servant first- a statement he had made within Beonin's hearing. The man would ride back to Camelot knowing his fate was in the hands of a servant he had tried to kill. For the moment, he would be content with that.

Gwaine, however, had- deliberately, he believed- misinterpreted Arthur's orders when the King had growled that Beonin be stripped of Camelot colors. Not even usually protocol rigid Leon had done anything to nay say the rogue. Arthur was also content to let that be. The Knights of Camelot were a tight brotherhood, and injustice done within their circle was often also handled internally. He was glad of their sense of Justice. Beonin would have not survived the trip back, he suspected, had Arthur not made his intentions that it was Merlin who deserved whatever revenge he may seek. While the Knights were just as angry that the former knight had been invaluable in letting an army into Camelot undetected, none would deny the terrible price that been paid, nor who had paid it.

The days went by quickly, it seemed. Arthur delayed bringing up anything with Merlin that had happened. He would not until he was sure the young man was ready. Beonin passed from his mind. But something else took up residence.

While they all recovered, Arthur was surprised to find himself coming to a startling realization. Under Armand's skill, and the attentions of Arthur, his friends, and his mother, Merlin recovered fairly quickly in the following days. His wounds would scar- there was no way around that. Arthur mourned those- and the others he had watched build slowly on the slim body over the years. Merlin should never have to bear such markings. And yet, he did. Scars. The mark of any warrior. Could he still consider Merlin a servant, after all of this? His secret was out now. Was there still a need to hide behind that role?

Curious, he tentatively shared his thoughts with Leon. The older knight had often acted as his council. Leon served the crown loyally and without fail. He had seen, and done, awful things, as well as seen, and done, wonderful acts under those laws. He was fair minded, and his opinions were slow to form. He liked to take the time to really think about something before deciding on it.

So Arthur was surprised when his casually tossed out mental murmurings received such an adamantly strong response. Leon hesitated, clearing his throat. Ah. So he had an opinion already.

"Speak your mind, Sir Leon, as always," Arthur encouraged, trying to keep his voice level.

"Sire-"

"I think, Leon, that for this conversation, just Arthur," the King interrupted with an additional attempt to ease the Knight's concern.

Leon took a deep breath, and nodded. "I had served your father for almost 10 years. And now I have served you a little more than that. I have watched your training, your youth. I have watched you grow from a spoiled- forgive me, Arthur, but it really does suit- prat, into the man I am now proud to serve. You always had in you the potential, Arthur, to be a better man than you were. It wasn't until Merlin stumbled into your life that you gained the motivation to work at it.

"I have watched you treat Merlin in awful and horrible ways, and I have watched him loyally ride out at your side in spite of that. He has challenged you, disrespected you, and loved you with a devotion I have never in all my years seen from any man. A servant who served- but always because _he_ chose to. An equal when you had none.

"In battle, a man who hid behind bushes, content to be considered a coward, while in truth often he was the determining factor in winning. When your sword fell, he took it up without hesitation. He has put your life ahead of his since the beginning. Long since no longer merely a servant, but a bodyguard in all but name.

"And for that, Arthur, you have to know, to understand, the respect most of us will always have for him. For many years now, his word has carried only a little less weight than your own. In many ways, most of us have considered him an… extension… of you. Ultimately, while any of us would die for you- as both King and Man- none of us could quite protect you the way we somehow understood _he_ could. For his kindness, his loyalty, his compassion toward all others, his eagerness to always be there in case someone needed him- most of us have loved him. A little brother, you see. One we sometimes teased, sometimes lightly tormented, but many of us would die for almost as quickly as we would for you.

"I needed you to know that, Arthur, so you can really hear my next words. I have said 'most' with frequency. Not all. Beonin isn't alone. Even before we left Camelot to rescue him, there were whispers from some of the Knights. From Nobles. Even from Servants. The Laws your father ruled Camelot by allowed for no deviation, not even of thought. Not all are as Beonin, and capable of hating him. But more than a few now cannot remember to see Merlin, and see only Sorcerer. Most, I think, believed you came to capture him. To drag him back to Camelot to face Judgment."

Arthur sat quietly. Of course there were things his Knights would hear that he had not. This was perhaps the longest speech he had ever heard Leon give, and it was very clear he had given it a lot of careful thought. "So you don't believe they can accept him, even if I do?"

Leon shrugged, looking saddened, but determined. "You asked for my council, Arthur. This I give. Too much change all at once is not good. A law can be changed easily enough, but an idea takes long to die. Merlin has long stood, among those who really matter, as so much more than your servant. He is your right hand- always there to do whatever you needed most, even if you didn't know you needed it. He has guided you, served you, fought for you, protected you … and, and died, for you." Leon cleared his throat, looking away. It was still too close for any of them to mention casually. "Whether he sought it out or not, there has always been a level of respect, of recognition for his deeds, and his bravery. More so because we thought him defenseless. Finding out he was not doesn't change the source of our original respect. Many will make this connection. Many, however, will not."

"So you're saying change nothing?" Arthur asked, unhappy with it.

"What he's saying, Clot-pole, is that to the only ones who matter, those changes have already happened," Merlin teased from behind them. Arthur whirled, and then was out of his chair in a heartbeat, crouching down under the arm Merlin was using to support himself against the door frame.

He could feel the slight tremors of exertion in the slim body he stood to support with his own shoulders. "Merlin, you shouldn't be up yet," Arthur growled in concern, guiding him to the chair at the table. "Where is Gwaine?" Out of the corner of his eye, he almost smiled to see Leon hovering close by with a blanket ready to put over the younger man's shoulders. Settling him carefully and kneeling beside him, Arthur made sure to check his bandages. Nothing had opened, he noted in relief. Most were beyond that, but the burns were very slow in healing, and likely the only remaining cause of Merlin's pain.

"Mother called him out to help her," Merlin answered, wincing a little at a particularly rough prod. He ignored the quick "sorry" from his King and lifted an eyebrow. "By name."

Arthur's eyes widened, and he nodded, conceding. Hunith had, on occasion, done the same to him. He, too, then a Prince and now a King, had hopped quickly. Leon placed the blanket over Merlin's shoulders when he shivered. The servants in the lodge had been sure to keep Merlin's room warm, but it left him susceptible to the chill in the rest of the house.

"Is there anything you need, Merlin?" Leon asked, ready to dance attendance on the servant. It made Merlin feel uncomfortable, so he grinned to cover it.

"The stables need mucking out?"

Leon broke out in a surprised laugh, gently ruffling the young man's hair. Younger brother indeed. Grinning, the knight arched an eyebrow at Arthur, then bowed dramatically, "As my Lord Servant wishes, of course. By your leave?" Without waiting for an answer, he left the house, understanding there were words to be had between them. Hunith must have known the same thing, must have known her son's stubbornness well enough to be resigned to this foolish attempt. Shaking his head, he continued to laugh on his way to find Gwaine. No, he'd been right. Nothing would ever really change with the ones who mattered, regardless of what Titles Arthur wanted to give the warlock.

**_MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN_ **

"Arthur, stop fussing," Merlin requested softly. He understood his friend was a man of action, and illness had never been one of his favorite enemies. He also knew there was a heavy load of guilt that Arthur wasn't quite prepared to deal with.

At his request, though, Arthur stopped, and looked up at him. Without thought, the King put his one hand to Merlin's cheek, which the young man momentarily leaned into. This was new. Arthur frequently reached out to touch him now, as though to make sure he was still solid. While he didn't fully understand its origins, he always made sure to acknowledge the touch in some way, to respond.

That was all that was needed. Arthur stood now, and seated himself across from Merlin. "How are you feeling today? This little trip notwithstanding."

"I felt good enough to attempt it," Merlin answered back smartly, smiling to take the edge off the slight tease. "I'm tired of sleeping, Arthur, and as nice as that room is, I'm tired of being in it," he explained. He'd never been a good patient. Sitting still was never his style. And… "I want to go home," he admitted, plucking at the fluffs on the wool blanket, which fortunately kept his head down.

Arthur's face crumpled a little in sympathy. "I know, Merlin, me too. I hate to leave so much to Gwen," he frowned when Merlin flinched at the name, but continued, "And I have other duties that should be seen to sooner rather than later."

Merlin paled further. "Beonin. That's why you were talking to Leon." He couldn't stand the thought of one more lost life. He had caused so many. Before at least, each one had a face to haunt him with. Now there were hundreds of faceless ghosts stalking his dreams, all crying out for justice for the wrong he had done them. The memory was vague, unclear- but he knew he had killed. He didn't remember much of what had happened after Gwaine spirited him away, but he knew Beonin had somehow been responsible for a great betrayal.

Arthur experienced a moment where he could sense turmoil and regret from the younger man, but dismissed it for now. There would come a time to address it. "I was talking to Leon, Merlin, because I wanted to hear his thoughts. I have been thinking, lately, that since everyone knows about your Magic now, you don't have to hide anymore. I owe you my life, and ordering you about as a Servant just doesn't feel right anymore," Arthur confessed. "To be honest, it hasn't felt right for a very long time, but I understood the need for the freedom the cover gave and so kept silent."

Merlin's mouth twisted, like he had tasted something unpleasant. "I've stopped keeping tabs on how often we owe each other our lives, Arthur. I don't think we should judge any measure by that. And as I told you, I'm happy to be your servant, until the day-"

" _Don't_ you _dare_ finish that!" Arthur barked suddenly, bouncing up from his chair, pacing and quite agitated. Not that. _Never_ those words again. Those words meant goodbye. Fear crawled up his spine, making him shiver, panic overwhelming him and he sank to his knees on the floor. He could feel Merlin's dead weight in his arms again, lips blue and lifeless. He gasped, trying to draw air into suddenly starving lungs. From another lifetime, he felt the tip of his sword slide through flesh while Merlin knelt in calm acceptance. In another, an intended sacrifice. Grief welled up in him. A deadly promise that had, ultimately, been kept.

"Arthur?" He felt Merlin's arms go around him, and he buried his head into the younger man's good shoulder, his hands grabbing the thin arms. "I'm here, Arthur," Merlin spoke, firmly, rubbing his hands briskly against his King's back. "I'm okay. I'm here." He kept repeating it. Arthur tried to breathe. Tried to calm himself enough to hear Merlin's voice. But all he could hear was the last, rattled breath being released. Over and over he heard it, heard his howl. He pulled back, trying to get room to breathe.

And suddenly, he couldn't breathe or think or even consider that _he_ had ever existed. There was only Merlin's lips were locked onto his, urgent and demanding. He responded instinctively, grabbing at Merlin's lip lightly with his teeth when the younger man tried to move back, used his hands to grab the face he had almost lost, drawing him back in for more. Merlin came willingly.

_I'm here_ , he felt projected into the kiss. _Feel me_ , it said. Arthur used his hands to grab the raven hair, to feel it offer resistance under his fingers. Merlin's mouth worked with his, changing pressure however he demanded. Gentle, rough, he controlled it all. He took it in desperately. Real. Not dead. Alive. And very responsive in his hands. Here. He allowed the kiss to ground him, to temporarily banish the memory he knew would forever haunt him. Alive. He repeated it until he knew where he was again, when he was. Knew the skin beneath his hands was warm- not cold. Until he was finally released from the awful visions that had overtaken him.

Arthur drew back slightly, panting. "Please, Merlin," he pleaded miserably. "Never again." He felt Merlin nod, and begin to pull out of the embrace, but Arthur held tightly, forcing the warlock to meet his eyes. He needed to make sure Merlin understood. "Never say that again."

Merlin's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Never again," he agreed. Arthur finally loosened his hold, using one hand to brush a stray hair from the warm and very much alive brow. Merlin had no way of knowing, of course, what those words had triggered. But he could see the seriousness in his friends eyes. He knew they hurt Arthur, for some reason, and that was enough for him. He would keep his word.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured sadly. "I should tell you, but I can't… I'm not… I can't…"

Merlin nodded, smiling at him in complete confidence. "You'll tell me when you're ready. Whatever wound you carry, Arthur, you know I'm here to share. I know what it is to keep a secret that weighs like chains."

Arthur nodded gratefully, exhausted from the sudden attack. He'd seen it before. In soldiers who had seen one battle too many. For all the horrors he had witnessed, Arthur knew he'd finally found the one thing that would send him over the edge. Control would come, in time. He licked his lips slowly, enjoying that he could still taste Merlin on them.

"We need to get up," Merlin smiled gently. They'd been lucky no one had walked in. It had been a foolish thing to do, but he couldn't think of any other way to bring Arthur back from whatever nightmare he'd been drawn into. Words had not penetrated, and he hadn't thought before he'd acted, thinking only to offer the knowledge that whatever he was seeing, wasn't real.

Arthur blinked, then frowned, looked around, and suddenly seemed to take in their surroundings. The position itself wasn't overly comfortable either- in his attack Merlin had made every inch of himself available for whatever he'd needed to ground himself. The whole thing must have pained the younger man considerably. He stood, slowly pulling Merlin with him, concerned when the boy wavered a little as though dizzy. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"I'll be fine, Arthur. But I could use some help back to my room." The admission, however gently delivered, made the proud man feel guilty all over again. Something must have shown on his face because Merlin squeezed the arms he was hanging on to for balance. "I'm alright. I just maybe overdid it a little."

Arthur said nothing while he settled Merlin back into his bed, which he was pleased to see the servants had taken advantage of and changed. He didn't miss the grimaces as the boy laid back. "I'm sorry, Merlin."

"How about," Merlin suggested, turning his head toward his friend, "we stop apologizing to each other. Neither of us can change the past, can change what's happened. In the end, we're here, we're both _alive_ ," Merlin stressed that last word. "No more guilt, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled. "There's that moment again, Merlin, when I realize I don't really know much about you. Moments of infinite wisdom, and moments of complete idiocy, and I never know which one I'll get."

"You'd get bored if I made it too easy." He hesitated, knowing he needed to finish the conversation that had started all this. "But, Arthur, what you were talking to Leon about. He's right, you know. Half of Camelot will expect me to return drawn and quartered, or at the very least in chains. Half will love you for it, and half will hate you." The twist of Arthur's mouth told Merlin what was coming, and he held up his hand to forestall the instant 'I don't care' on the kings' lips. "In this, my friend, you have to care. And I know you do. I am as subject to the laws of Camelot as any other. I've always known that."

"I'm changing the law," Arthur blurted out, and continued hurriedly. "The soft truce I issued as soon as I became King gives me the precedent. I will _not_ have you returning to Camelot a criminal."

Merlin hesitated, balancing between joy and caution. As much as he had lived for so long waiting to hear those words, a part of him needed to know they were coming from the right place. "How do you feel, Arthur, about discovering my Magic?" he asked. Arthur blinked in surprise at the new direction, and then to Merlin's astonishment, blushed deeply. And then Merlin understood. "You already knew." It explained why he had come for him so quickly, why he had never brought it up in their conversations since his recovery in Ealdor. It explained years of letting obvious lies go, of never looking too deeply into anything, of backing down from vague answers to potentially dangerous questions. How had he not seen this before?

"First of all, _Mer_ -lin, I'm not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am," Arthur defended. Then his shoulders sagged. "Someday, Merlin, I _will_ tell you. I promise. But that takes me to a place far too dark to explore so close to almost losing you. I'm sor- I'm not ready to go there, yet. Sufficient to say I was shown the results of the only two choices the Fates thought I could make, and I couldn't live with either of them. So I made a third choice. One they never saw coming, and in doing so, was promised a future I thought I _could_ live with."

Merlin cocked his head. He recognized, given what had triggered the earlier attack, that he had to walk very carefully around this. He had already promised he would wait patiently for Arthur to share the wounds he bore in silence. This was obviously one of them. "What I'm meaning to say then, is that it likely took time for you to come to terms with it. Your people will need time, that's all. I have waited all these years, Arthur, to hear you say you'd change the law. And I have believed in my heart that it would come from a place of true acceptance. Not because you feel guilty, or as a reward to me, personally."

Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully, studying his tiring young friend. In many ways, they had grown up together, but in totally different worlds. He'd learned some exceptionally harsh lessons over the years, as had Merlin. Had any of them been the same ones? Absently, he touched his lips with his fingers. He thought, maybe, that Merlin might understand this one. Someday.

"It's not guilt, Merlin, and acceptance must be earned. However much I value your advice, on this I won't budge. I _am_ changing the law. I've already sent word to the Clerics in Camelot. _I will not_ drag you into Camelot in chains. You will enter at my side, as you always have. Gwen agrees with me." There. That flinch again. "We are both prepared to fight the battles that will come, whether now or later, because of it. Are you?"

Merlin blinked back his tears, and nodded. It was honest, and it would do. The King accepted him, for all that he was. Had, apparently, for some time. It was a start, and of course he was right. There were magical beings that used their gifts for evil. Changing the law did not change justice. It would all take time. "Did you have any questions?" he ventured hesitantly.

Arthur grinned, and patted his good leg. "Oh, a great many. And we'll get to each of them. But first, you need to rest. You look exhausted."

He stood, watching as Merlin's eyes closed. He reached over and gave the frail hand a squeeze, just to be sure, to know they would open again. The answering tug he got back made him smile.

Healing was never easy, but they would get there.


	12. Chapter 12

Gwaine shifted nervously on his horse, making the animal prance. "It's too soon," he growled again- for the hundredth time that morning- making Leon roll his eyes.

"It's a two day ride to Camelot. Longer, if we take it slow for his sake. He has to build up to that. He can't do that in bed," the older knight argued back. "And Merlin wants to go home."

"Then Arthur should at least be taking one, if not both of us." For that, Leon had no argument since he agreed. He'd not been surprised when Arthur announced their intention for a short ride, nor when he explained the reasons behind it. He had, however, been shocked to his core to discover the King intended just himself and Merlin to go.

There was no doubt at least a few from the attack had survived. They could still be out there. But Arthur was adamant, insistent that where they were going was perfectly safe. He wouldn't say more, and Leon being who he was, had not pressed it. Gwaine, however, offered no such courtesy as the two men being discussed emerged from the house.

It always made Leon's heart soften a little to see the proud King Arthur being so solicitous to his servant. Merlin's recovery was slow but steady. The pain from the burns kept him a little weakened, and Gwaine had confessed he was worried the dark circles beneath the boys' eyes meant he wasn't sleeping. But his mood, his cheerful disposition had returned to almost normal. It was almost easy to forget what he had recently been through, at times, if not for how quickly he seemed to tire.

"Arthur, are you sure-" Gwaine started again, surprised when it was Merlin who interrupted him.

"Thank you, Gwaine. But we'll be fine. I promise you both, no harm will come to either of us on this foray," he assured, fully confident.

Gwaine wanted to believe him. He had seen, after all, just what Merlin was capable of. He had, however, noticed a rather distinctive lack of magic since the boys' return from death. If that was what they were relying on, it didn't set him any easier.

He glanced at Arthur, saw a look in his eye that just dared him to contradict Merlin, to nay say something he was obviously confident in. He looked away first. He couldn't, of course. There weren't too many who could deny Merlin anything the boy truly wanted.

"If you're not back in two hours," he grumbled instead, "we _will_ come looking for you."

Merlin smiled and nodded, accepting the compromise to the rogue's pride, and accepted Leon's help getting onto his horse. Gwaine sighed. He had been given a task so he might as well get to it. He wheeled his horse, heeling it forward. His journey would take considerably longer than two hours, but Merlin didn't know that, and he didn't doubt Leon would take up his threat if they failed to return.

**MERLIN101010101010MERLIN**

Arthur watched his friend carefully, making mental notes of the winces and grimaces. He didn't suggest they turn back, though. While he mostly agreed with Gwaine that it was too soon, Merlin had begged for this. Even going so far to as to finally confess the Dragon had been calling him for days. Arthur had felt a small thrill as Merlin confessed his connection with the Dragon, told him how it had been released, of the guilt he bore because of his responsibility to the Dragon- last of his kind- as a Dragon lord. However angry he'd been, Kilgharrah had had his right to seek revenge. He shook off the thought. That was in the past. One of the events he had known was coming, but had been unable to change. No choice he had made could undo what Uther had done.

A quiet moan from the warlock made him focus again on the path, and he slowed their pace slightly more until it smoothed out flat again.

Determination would see the young warlock to their destination, a clearing about a half an hour ride outside the village. Arthur wasn't as convinced he would make the journey back with equal ease. For almost two weeks now they'd been set up in Ealdor. Long enough that Gwen had sent her brother back with letters, and wondering if Arthur wanted a larger escort to return home. Mostly, though, she had been asking about Merlin. She had assured him that things in Camelot were fine, if a little tense, and that they must take all the time they needed.

While he knew she had never truly been comfortable with being made Queen Regent, he appreciated that her sense of duty was keen. As was her love for Camelot. She had accepted only with the understanding of it being a temporary role. But she wasn't rushing him back. Never suggested Merlin could heal and return when he was ready. The opposite, in fact. Her letter had been full of love for both of them, as well as her usual keen insight.

Gaius's letter was warm, but slightly impatient. Mostly a checklist of all the things they should be doing to speed Merlin's recovery. It had made Merlin smile, which Arthur enjoyed seeing.

They reached the clearing in good time- only a little later than the half hour they'd originally thought. Arthur had no doubt Gwaine's timeline would be obeyed to the second, even if he, himself, wasn't able to see it through.

There, Arthur got his first good, close up look at the great dragon. Kilgharrah was as impressive sitting quietly in an open field as he was in the skies blasting fire. Dismounting from his horse, he moved immediately to help Merlin down. The Dragon watched them impassively, eyes narrowing at Merlin in particular.

"It is good to see you, young Warlock."

"And you, Old Friend," Merlin replied happily. He was happy. Not only to be seeing his long-time friend and sometimes mentor, but also to be able to share this with Arthur, to no longer have to keep it secret. The smile that split his face hurt his cheeks, and he didn't care.

The Dragon inclined his head toward Arthur. "King Arthur. I was pleased to see my message was heard."

Arthur returned the slight bow. "Thank you, for reminding me I already had the tools I needed to save him." He left it at that, certain somehow that the Dragon could sense just how much carried behind those simple words.

Kilgharrah turned back toward the Warlock, lowering his head to get a closer look at him, his eyes slitting. "Something troubles you still, Merlin. Your wounds should be healing by now, your magic recovering."

Arthur frowned. The Healer had told him that Merlin was making good progress. That delays, given the infection, were to be expected. The dark circles were concerning, but Armand had explained that too, saying it was Merlin's lack of routine creating them.

He watched as Merlin's hand fluttered toward his chest instinctively, before falling away. "Most of my injuries have healed. The infection so soon after the battle- my magic gave a lot."

"Merlin, you are _lying_ to me. You are a Dragon lord. I can sense something is wrong, something beyond the injuries." The Dragon glanced peevishly over at the King. "What is it you do not wish _him_ to hear?"

Merlin shook his head, getting ready to issue a denial, but Kilgharrah roared in frustration. As if in response, the skies finally let loose the rain they had been threatening for most of the morning. None in the clearing paid it any heed.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, puzzled. He'd thought they were beyond lies. He wanted to believe his friend, but the Dragon was too angry. And, he'd admit, there were things about Merlin's slow recovery that didn't quite fall into place. His strength wasn't returning as quickly as it should, for one. Merlin frequently seemed to weaken swiftly after very little exertion. "Merlin, please, you know I can't… not after…"

Sighing, Merlin glared up at the Dragon. "Before I put up the shield, I healed Arthur. It took a lot."

Arthur nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Leon told me it was a mortal wound."

Merlin blinked back tears as he remembered his failure. "I had already fought so many to get to you. The blade damaged your heart, Arthur. By the time I got there, my healing wasn't enough. I couldn't fix it all."

The Dragon shook his head, understanding. "Merlin, you should not have."

Arthur looked between the two, confused. "What did you _do_?"

Merlin looked apologetically at Arthur, wishing with all his heart not to tell him this. "I couldn't _fix_ it, Arthur, but I could… _absorb_ it. Take it on myself." Arthur closed his eyes, shaking his head in denial, beginning to understand. Merlin hurried to continue. "My strength isn't coming back because that piece I took from you- it's not healing like it should. My magic has been protecting me as best it can from it, trying to heal it. I thought, maybe, with time, it would heal like the rest of my injuries," Merlin explained. "But every day, I feel it a little more. The burns are taking too long to heal."

Arthur stumbled back a step. Memories of knowledge of a sword shard slowly making its way to his heart assaulted him. The fear. The ultimate result. After everything, Merlin could still die. Hiding every day that he was getting worse even as he got better. He shook his head, anger rising, heart breaking at the same time. "Why would you not tell me?" he demanded harshly. To let him believe all would be well, given enough time- it was a cruelty he hadn't considered Merlin capable of.

Merlin took a step forward. "Arthur, I _truly_ thought it would heal on its own, like everything else. That it would be just another scar. It was so small, the hurt I took from you. I only took it because I wanted to be absolutely sure. But I- I did too much, after, and it got worse. I didn't know. The pain- the burns hid a lot."

Arthur looked at the Dragon. He wanted to ask. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to ask. But there was an expression of... caution?... on the Dragon's face. He remembered their last encounter. Kilgharrah had forgiven his anger, but he was still bound. Arthur understood. If _he_ asked, the Dragon would be forced to say no. Merlin _had_ to be the one to ask, and it was clear he had not even considered it.

The Dragon nodded at him. Arthur took it as confirmation. Somehow, he had to get Merlin to ask. Arthur wasn't a wordsmith. He didn't know how to bandy about a subject, or play with wit. Whatever he said, he knew it would end up denying Merlin this one chance. Already he had endangered it by being there. Had he not been, he was sure the Dragon would have already healed it. Not for the first time, he regretted the threats he'd made. This is where words got him.

Determination settled on him. No. Not a man of words. But he _was_ a man of action, he decided. Striding forward angrily, he grabbed Merlin's face and kissed him. There was no fear, this time, no grief, no overpowering emotion. For this kiss, there was only love, the sharing of their connection, their bond. This was everything they had ever been, would ever _be_. He felt Merlin hesitate only a moment, then respond in kind.

"Does this mean _nothing_ to you?" he demanded harshly, angrily. Merlin blinked, the tone so at odds with everything he had felt conveyed in the kiss. "Will you not consider those you've given hope to, knowing you'll leave them again?" He kissed the servant again, savagely. "Why wouldn't you _tell_ me? I could have done something," Arthur whispered, this time in agony. He kissed him again, letting his sorrow through. "This _means_ something to me, Merlin. I _can't_ lose it, not now that I've finally got it."

Merlin drew back, shaking in the chill of the rain, reeling with the revelation. He'd given when asked, and he had given with his whole heart. Even knowing it would lead only to heartbreak for him, he'd allowed these few moments. But there were limits to how much of his heart he would sacrifice. "It means _everything_ , Arthur. All of it," he replied, then he stepped purposely back, out of Arthur's arms. "And I would rather die than lose it."

Arthur frowned. "I'm right here, Merlin. You've got me," he pleaded, spreading his arms open, exposing himself. "It's not easy for either of us, I know, but I'm _here_. Make this leap with me!"

"Gwen." Even as he uttered it, Merlin sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, the picture of misery kneeling in the heavy rain. He wouldn't trade a single moment of the past two weeks with Arthur, not for a thousand years of what he now knew would be an empty life. What they shared, it went so much deeper. There was no word to describe it. There was no label to call it. It was heaven. And it was its own special Hell. "Do you think I'm so blind that I could believe so strongly in _our_ destiny, in the Albion we will build, and not sense _her_ part in it all? To give it all, to taste it even for a day, and lose everything? I'm not strong enough," he whispered miserably. "Not for that."

Everything came into clear focus for Arthur. The hesitancy, the flinch at her name. Merlin only ever responding directly to his _need_ , whether expressed or not, but never seeking for himself. Arthur felt like a fool. Merlin was a being born of the very essence of magic. And it had been Magic that had shown him those paths, offered that choice. How could he not have considered Merlin would _sense_ even a part of it? In two timelines, he had loved Gwen. In one, he'd been brave enough to marry her. In the other, he'd lacked the courage to raise a servant, had kept his love secret. Merlin didn't know the details, but somehow, he could _feel_ it. Feel something that should have been between him and their friend. Something that would shape an empire. ' _Fate may still influence the future_ '- the warning came back to him.

Glancing at the Dragon, who waited patiently, and watched with sympathy, he knelt in front of his friend, not caring about how sodden he was, or the puddle in the grass his knees sank into. He ignored the little shivers that wracked the thin frame. He had this one chance to make himself very clear. He took a deep breath. Words again.

"Merlin, I told you recently about a choice I was once given. I barely had a glimmer then, of what could be between us. But I made a choice to nurture it, to see where it could lead. Two answers I was given, and yes, Gwen was a part of both. She was always destined to be Queen."

Merlin shook his head, tears mixing with rain. "And I love her, Arthur. She is my friend, and a sister to me. I could not- I would never- you don't know how much she loves you." His voice was enough to break Arthur's heart. It was guilt laden and utterly shattered. "And I love you too much to take that from you."

Arthur put out his hand and used Merlin's chin to force the young man to look at him. "I _do_ know, Merlin. By all the gods, I swear, I would _never_ hurt her. Not like that. She knows we were never going to be together. I have not misled her. I made her Queen in understanding her part to play. When Lancelot died, it was clear to me what had to be done to make that destiny happen. Fate, Merlin, is not so cut and dry as the gods would have us believe. I made sure, even then, that the path for you and I remained open."

"But- we- the-" They had never actually spoken about the kiss- the first or the second. Merlin had understood it to be a physical connection, so Arthur could put the events of the attack behind him. His King had needed to know he was _real_. So he had tucked away the hurt it would cause his heart, and given in. He'd give- and had given- his _life_ for Arthur. What was a reassuring kiss or two- and the pieces of his soul they destroyed?

"I chose _you_ a very long time ago," Arthur said firmly, with all the conviction he could put into his voice. "I chose all you and I could not only accomplish together, but to believe in the friendship we would have. To believe in what it could someday be. I am sorry, Merlin, that while I was brave enough to make that choice then, it wasn't until I had lost you that I finally made that last leap of courage."

Arthur made Merlin meet his eyes again, and once again kissed him, tasting the cool rain. He smiled into it, coaxing a still shocked Merlin into responding to him. "It's all right, Merlin, to _want_ this," he whispered. His grin against the others mouth widened when the young man finally did. Finally accepted that this was good, this was _welcomed_ , and that he was not causing pain to anyone. When Merlin finally _let go_.

For a few moments, Arthur let himself be selfish, let himself indulge in having Merlin an equal in this for the first time, in taking as much as he gave. It thrilled him, lit fires in him he hadn't known existed. The little moan that escaped from Merlin made him shiver. He felt his own need- shift- to something else, but he pushed it back. He could have stayed like this forever and been content. But their forever was still threatened.

Pulling reluctantly away, Arthur asked again. "Does this mean _nothing_ to you?" this time it was gentle, encouraging. "I don't know where this may lead us," he confessed softly, but determined to make sure Merlin _heard_ him. "I only know that I am absolutely yours in mind, body and soul. I need you, Merlin. I need _this_ , for everything it is and may be. And I know that I _cannot_ bear a life without you. I needed only moments of having to live that horror to know no false pride was worth paying that price. I swore I was done hiding, and I meant it. I ask you again- _make_ this leap with me!"

Merlin could read every expression on Arthur's face. He would know a lie. He would know the slightest hesitation. The King nodded, hiding nothing from him. Every word he spoke, he truly believed. He was willing to admit he needed this, and more- he _wanted_ it. He was done running from it. His eyes begged Merlin to meet him halfway- to give them a chance to explore this new sense of their old connection. But Merlin had to do his part. Had to be here, with Arthur, to see it through. The King glanced at the Dragon behind him, then returned his eyes to Merlin's. And then he realized what it was Arthur wanted him to do. He had to choose. Arthur had made his choice. Now it was Merlin's turn.

Merlin wiped his eyes, blushing as he turned to the Dragon. "Is there anything you can do, Kilgharrah? Any help you can give?"

The Dragon seemed to smile. "Of course, young Warlock. There is much damage. You must understand, this will take much from you." Merlin nodded, accepting. Healing was tricky- and usually not pleasant as it forced the body to do something rather quickly. Always before he'd been unconscious. He bristled indignantly when Kilgharrah turned to Arthur. "Hold him, Pendragon. This will not be pleasant while he’s conscious."

The healing spell burned through his veins, and he couldn't stop the scream of agony that was ripped from him as everything inside him seemed to shift. Liquid fire rushed through him. _Stop_ , he begged, as the fire grew hotter. He was being consumed from the inside. His magic rose in defense, trying to cool him, but it, too, was greatly weakened. _Stop_ , he begged again mentally. The fire did not stop, but it did offer him the mercy of oblivion. He accepted, gratefully.

Arthur flinched when the young man screamed, but held on tightly as the young man tried to arch away from him. He was unprepared for Merlin's sudden dead weight against him, and panic rose quickly. Easing him to the wet ground, he quickly checked for breath. Bowing his head, he took in a ragged breath of his own when he felt it. Fingers at Merlin's pulse confirmed the boy was alive. If anything, the pulse was stronger than it had been for almost a week. He hugged the warlock closer to him in relief.

He looked up at the Dragon. "Would it be breaking your bond with Magic if I said thank you?"

Kilgharrah chuckled. "It would not. Take heed, Arthur. Love was destined between you, and used to bind you together, but it is humanity that defines it and human failings that can destroy it. You have taken many chances in bending Destiny and Fate to your will. There may be consequences."

Arthur nodded seriously. "I know. As I did then. As I have, every time I've changed something. Every time I've had to sit back and be a puppet in what I knew I could not."

"If you were given the same choice today, would you still pay such a price?"

Arthur smiled gently, brushing Merlin's sodden bangs from his eyes. "For him? A hundred times, yes, I would decide the same."

"Very good, Arthur. I am proud of you. He will need your strength of conviction in the challenges ahead. The young Warlock will be very weak for a few days more. My spell was not kind, but it was effective. Let him rest this night, but on the morrow you should make for Camelot. While uncomfortable, the ride will not endanger him and the Witch has not been idle."

"Morgana."

"You both must be ready to face her, and there is much to be settled between you before your bond is at its strongest. Her hatred, on the other hand, is a deadly weapon she hones daily."


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin woke while it was still dark out. He took a tentative breath, finding it easy for the first time in what seemed like a long time. The pain he had become so accustomed to was also gone, reduced to an overall sense of being tender. He looked at his side- the burn that caused him the most trouble- and found nothing but a fresh young scar. He suspected he'd find the same on his shoulder and leg.

More importantly, the painful grip on his heart was completely gone. He closed his eyes, grateful to the Dragon. He felt worn, like he'd been used up, but in a good way. He remembered the feeling from his Healing from the Serket sting. A few day’s rest, and he would be back to his usual self.

Beside him, someone mumbled, and he glanced over, startled to see the bare, broad shoulders of Arthur asleep next to him. It was everything he could do not to reach out and touch them. He surprised himself with just how much he _wanted_ to. He had never honestly considered being with a man, and the only woman he'd ever loved- they hadn't had a chance before she was taken from him. He thought back to what had been revealed in the clearing. He couldn't completely shake the doubt in his heart. But Arthur had been so sure. He had trusted the then Prince now King with his life. Was it so hard to trust him with his heart, too?

"Merlin, I can _hear_ you thinking," Arthur growled sleepily, rolling over to glare at his servant.

"Sorry, Arthur. Go back to sleep."

"Well, I'm awake _now_." He raised himself a little, using his hand and bent elbow to lean his head on. "How are you feeling?" The King couldn't stop himself from tracing a finger along the warlock's bare arm, delighted to feel the boy shiver beneath his light touch. He frowned a little, though, when Merlin tensed a little, shifting to answer in such a way that took him out of Arthur's easy reach.

Merlin smiled. "Great! My magic is still a little taxed, but I've been through this before. I'll be fine in no time."

Arthur frowned, deeper. "Well, at least now I know what story you'll be telling me on the ride to Camelot. We leave in-" he glanced at the window. "Actually, about an hour and a half, from the looks of it. Wonder if Cook has anything for a quick breakfast. I'm starved."

Merlin shoved back the covers, moving to go and fulfill the King's request. He looked down, surprised to find his pants were also missing. Blushing, he covered himself back up quickly. "Um, Arthur? Where are my night pants? Or my trousers?"

Arthur shrugged, heaving himself off the bed. "The Dragon said to give you as much rest as possible before the ride, and your clothes were soaked when we made it back. Gwaine was worried about your chills, so I stripped you and stayed close by until you stopped shivering. Then it just seemed cruel to wake you. Here," he opened a drawer and took out a pair of new black pants. Merlin frowned at them, but accepted them. His normal brown linen pair must be being washed after their soaking and likely mud stained. Next he found a black linen shirt thrown at him.

"Arthur? Where are my real clothes? I'll get these dirty," Merlin complained, arching an eyebrow at the King who was now changing his own clothes. It always surprised him a little that the man lacked any form of modesty concerning nudity. He had had servants dressing him most of his life, had changed clothes in a camp full of knights. Nothing about it phased him.

Arthur looked back innocently. "I had some new ones made. If you won't let me change your title, you don't have to look like I never pay you," he threw back casually.

"I like my clothes," Merlin protested. "They've done me just fine up to now. I won't pretend to be more than I am."

Arthur groaned in frustration. "By the gods you _are_ your mother's son! Can you _please_ just wear these, this once? So she sees you in them?"

Merlin frowned but reluctantly nodded. He didn't like it, but he had heard the other servants tittering nervously about his mother's rooms in the servants’ quarters too. Quickly, he dressed. It wasn't all bad, at that. The trousers were a little tighter than he was used to- closer to firm leggings- and the linen a little finer quality than his own, but still linen. It settled against his oddly sensitive skin. The new scars, he suspected. He'd get used to it. He always did. He reached for his boots, only to find those had been replaced as well with a pair of fine dark brown knee high, again, much like Arthur's. He sighed in defeat. No sense in making a fuss now that he'd come this far.

He turned around as he finished tucking in his shirt to find Arthur staring at him, openly surprised. "What?" he asked, looking down at himself to make sure he had done it all up. Which was absurd. _He_ knew how to dress himself! He hadn't had a chance to do up the laces on the v neck of his shirt, but he was sure the rest was properly situated.

Arthur gave his head a shake. "Nothing," he replied quickly. Dressed all in a black to match his raven hair, the stunning blue eyes against the fair skin, he had been surprised to find the boy… attractively different. When he stood tall and straightened his shoulders, there was a certain air about him. Merlin could have walked into his Feast Hall for the first time and he would have automatically assumed him noble born.

The servants’ clothes, Arthur realized, were another way to hide himself, to let him go about unobserved and unremarked. For a moment, he felt tempted to have _all_ of Merlin's other clothes burned. He didn't want him to have to hide anymore! But. That was a battle for another day. Today, Merlin was wearing fine new clothes, and would ride into Camelot in style, just this once. He wasn't ignoring the advice both Leon and Merlin had given him- just testing its boundaries.

"I'll go fetch your breakfast," Merlin stated, turning to leave the room. He was surprised, however, when the door opened as he reached for it, admitting a servant carrying a tray. "Or, not? Hello," he greeted. He was ashamed to admit he didn't remember her name.

She smiled at him. "Not to worry, My Lord. You've been so sick… well, we're glad you're better. The Lady has been beside herself with worry, and we are quite fond of her, odd as she is."

"Oh! I'm not-"

" _Mer_ -lin, are you going to leave her standing there all day holding the tray?" Arthur called from across the room to stop his friend's words. He had left very specific instructions with this staff, and he hadn't had much opportunity to do more than explain the purchase of the Village and the building of the Hunting Lodge to his friend yet. He had, blushing, informed Merlin of his mother's status, however, in hopes of gaining an ally. _That_ had failed spectacularly. Both were quite content with their stations in life, frustratingly, and were determined to counter any measures he took to raise them. Stubborn in his own right, Arthur had let loose the information that it was Merlin who owned Ealdor in Camelot's name. The staff had picked it up immediately, referring to him as a 'Lord', though this was the first in his hearing. Arthur refused to allow a hasty denial to undo his work.

Wonderfully predictable Merlin blushed, immediately taking the tray from her. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, forgetting what he had been about to say. He turned and placed it on the table, and she was gone before he turned again. Merlin frowned. "She's gone."

Arthur snorted. "Of course she is, Merlin. _Some_ servants know how to _properly_ go about their jobs." He expected a retort, but grew concerned when his friend only nodded, sitting heavily on a chair, putting his head into his hands. "Merlin?"

"'m fine," Merlin mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. The light hum in his head had become a pounding with his increase in activity and nausea rolled over him. Gaius had once explained blood pressure to him, but he honestly hadn't paid it much mind. Especially since Gaius firmly believed the only relief was rest, which wasn't always an option.

He opened his eyes when he felt Arthur's hand on his knee, concerned eyes watching him warily. "Don't lie to me. This doesn't look like 'fine' to me," Arthur growled.

Merlin mustered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Side effects," he answered simply, giving a careful one shoulder shrug. The brief action sent a spike through his temples, but he tried to hide it.

Arthur relaxed a little, sitting back. "The Dragon said it would take a few days. I would wait, Merlin, but he was adamant that we leave as soon as possible," he returned with sympathy- and no little guilt. The Dragon had also warned him that this would not be a comfortable ride for Merlin, but he felt he had no choice. He had learned his lesson about ignoring warnings from magical creatures.

Merlin took a deep breath, appreciating the faith Arthur was putting in a creature he had every reason to hate. Maybe that acceptance of magical things beyond Merlin himself wasn't so far off. "I'll go get us ready to go-"

"No need." Arthur stood, putting a stopping hand on Merlin's shoulder. "There are other servants who have been preparing all night," he explained. "You need to eat, and rest while you can. It will be a hard ride."

**_MERLIN10101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Merlin hugged his mother tightly. "I'm sorry we didn't get to see each other much," he lamented.

Hunith smiled. "Every moment was appreciated. You're an important, busy man now, Merlin. Arthur knows about your Magic. You will find your duties much changed when you don't have to hide in the shadows or lie to him."

Merlin smiled. "I don't think Arthur will ever change _that_ much, Mother," he teased lightly. He winced when his mother slapped his arm- with some force, either. "Ow," he whined, rubbing the spot. "What?"

Hunith's eyes were sharp and serious when she answered. "Arthur has changed everything- all for you. He will grow more still. Don't be so concerned with hanging on to what used to be that you miss out on what could be," she growled at him. She tilted her head, her expression gentling. "There are a great many changes coming, Merlin, and you need to be open to them. He loves you, and now that he's admitted that, he won't hide from it. He's not a man to do things by half measures. Arthur is no coward."

"I know. Sometimes I wish he was, but I know. I will write more often, if I can. Arthur said the purchase agreement allowed for free and nonthreatening passage to and from here along a specific route. Leon is already talking about sending some of the Knights here on furlough. You spoiled them," he teased.

She laughed, walking him over to Arthur, and throwing her arms around both their shoulders, kissing each of them on the cheek. "It was good to have someone to spoil again. Don't make it too long before you return," she kissed them each again, whispering something in Arthur's ear as she did so, then to them both, "Safe journey home."

Merlin watched her walk away to say her goodbyes to Leon and Gwaine, who both grinned on her arrival. Gwaine scooped her up and swung her around, putting her down when she swatted him, laughing in delight. The next swat the Knight received was for whatever he had said that had made Leon blush brightly enough to be seen at a distance.

"She's an incredible woman," Arthur complimented quietly, also watching her. He adored her attentions, adored that she treated him like a son. But it often made him miss the interactions he'd never been able to have with his own mother. Her final whisper in his ear, though, had made his heart soar. A blessing- one he hadn't realized he'd needed to hear until she said it.

"She is," Merlin agreed, mounting his own horse. He could guess what she had told Arthur, but he didn't ask for confirmation. If she had intended him to hear, she would have told him too.


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin winced as he shifted in the saddle. He knew the others were taking it slower for his sake. They had stopped for the night far too early, and even left a little later in the morning. But he could practically feel their eagerness to return to Camelot, and he felt guilty for holding them back for so many weeks while he recovered.

"Are you all right, Merlin?" Leon asked, noticing. They had all been paying attention to how hard the ride was on the still recovering young man, and they knew he was pushing himself for their sake.

"I'm fine, Leon, thank you. Happy to be going home, honestly. Even knowing Gaius has a list for me a mile long, I'll be happy to see the city again."

Leon nodded, smiling. "Ealdor is a beautiful little place, and its simplicity is peaceful. Your mother's hospitality lacked for nothing. But I will confess, I'm eager to be heading back. A man can grow soft rather quickly in a place like that. Get too used to it."

"You never talk about it- is there a lady waiting for you?" Merlin asked lightly. "I've never seen you with one, but you don't carouse with the others when they get up to their adventures."

Leon shook his head. "No lady for me, Merlin, but a partner, yes."

"I'm sorry to have kept you from him," Merlin replied guiltily. "It must hurt to be away from him for so long. He must be missing you."

Leon smiled gently. He had never voiced that 'secret' out loud before- though almost everyone knew- and he admitted it had felt good. It wasn't that he feared judgment from the other Knights- it was that he kept his privacy tightly to him. But when Merlin had asked, he had found he _wanted_ to share with him. As much because the younger man's first thought had been to feel concerned about keeping them apart.

"He knows, Merlin, that I am first and always a Knight of Camelot. And I have confidence that the Queen Regent would have sent him word that I was well and being kept away by duty. She is thoughtful that way, and she has known me since childhood. He likely misses me, but I know he's also proud of me."

Merlin nodded sagely, glancing up ahead to where Arthur and Gwaine were riding together, amicably chatting. Then he frowned, squinting to see what was in between the two sets of riders. There was a large dark space on the ground. "Leon, what's that?" he pointed.

Leon looked then took in a quick breath. He had forgotten they would pass through here. He thought carefully about his answer, unsure how much the younger man remembered. "That's where you saved us," was the reply he opted to give. Ultimately, it was the truest answer he knew.

"What the…" Merlin trailed off as the large black circle became obvious. His face paled when he took in the devastation that was still obvious. Little sprouts of new growth were beginning to push through the ash, and winds had cleared some of the layers away. But the horror of what had happened was still clearly visible.

Merlin stopped his horse on the edge, taking in the greenery in the middle, the blackened piles scattered throughout the ash. He slid off, stumbling as he did so. No. Those piles weren't… they couldn't be… he wouldn't have…

Charred bones littered the little piles. Each pile had once been a human being, and there were hundreds of them. He had known, of course, that he had killed many. He remembered the simple command he had given his exhausted magic. _Destroy_.

And it had obeyed. Completely and without mercy, cruel in its efficiency. These mercenaries had died where they stood, watching the most terrible of deaths coming for them and being unable to escape it. He closed his eyes, putting his hands over his ears to shut out the screams that had vaguely, until now, echoed in his memory. Now that memory assaulted his ears- loud and penetrating- drowning out the voice of someone calling to him. What had once been shadows of images were now a clear picture of death, hints transforming into details. He sank to his knees, stunned. _No one_ deserved to die like that.

He had done this. This, awful, evil thing. That was _him_ \- with magic.

**_MERLIN101001010101010101MERLIN_ **

Arthur shook his head at Gwaine. "Gwaine, that's not possible," he insisted. "No one can move like that."

Gwaine sniffed indignantly. "And how would you know, oh Virtuous Princess? Have you ever bedded more than one woman?" He refused to give credence to the whispers of the reputation associated with Arthur’s past affairs. He’d seen no sign of it in the short time he’d been in Camelot, and therefore was content to assume it was wrong.

Arthur shot him a sly grin, one full of a confidence that made Gwaine blink. "Sufficient to say, _Sir_ Gwaine, that my education in _all_ matters was _very_ thorough."

The Knight frowned. He tried to question further, but Arthur wouldn't reveal anything more, turning their conversation to the catch up training of the other knights and the various other duties that would have built up while they were gone.

" _Arthur!_ " Leon's urgent call from behind them had both dismounting quickly, their swords pulled before they turned back to assess the danger.

Leon was standing awkwardly behind Merlin, who was on his knees and covering his ears, staring straight ahead. Confused, Arthur looked around, his eyes widening when he realized where they were. In his eagerness to get home, he hadn't even noticed. Cursing, he started to move toward Merlin, but Gwaine grabbed his arm.

"Gwaine!" Arthur hissed angrily, trying to shake him off. Couldn't he see Merlin was in trouble?

" _Listen_ , Arthur!" Gwaine growled. "This is his first time seeing it."

"What?" How was that possible? He had Gwaine's report, of course, and now that he thought about it, Gwaine had stressed he had gotten Merlin away as quickly as he could. The light had blinded them and the Knight hadn't known how many may have survived whatever it was Merlin had done. He'd understood Arthur was safe with the other Knights and felt then that his priority had to be protecting Merlin.

"He was so out of it, and by the time the light faded, we were beyond it, and then Beonin attacked us. He never actually had to see what he had done," Gwaine explained quickly. "Arthur, you know Merlin."

"Stay here," Arthur ordered, sheathing his sword, surprised when Gwaine nodded, grabbing the reins of both their horses, perhaps understanding that there was no danger here he could protect them from. Arthur strode across the area quickly, motioning with his hand for Leon to join Gwaine.

Then he knelt slowly in front of Merlin, blocking his view, keeping his hands up as if approaching a skittish horse. Merlin continued to stare through him, at the area with vacant eyes, and the King had no way of knowing how much the warlock was aware of at the moment. "Merlin?" he inquired.

There was no answer. No response at all to his approach. Arthur gingerly reached out and touched his arm, lightly at first, then harder, moving his hands away from his ears. The boy continued to stare. Then Merlin's blue eyes flashed gold. The piles of ash formed into their previous forms. Hundreds of ghost like enemies once again stood in the circle. Some had their hands thrown up, as if they could ward something off. Some stood, resigned, and most seemed in the middle of flight, terror marking their all too detailed expressions.

Arthur knew he had to act quickly, that this wasn't right. This wasn't healthy. For all of Merlin's battles, he wasn't a warrior, had never been taught that the price of doing what was right would sometimes be his own sanity. He needed to stop this.

"Merlin!" he barked sharply, desperate to break his gaze, squeezing a little harder on the frail wrists still in his hands. Thankfully, the servant had long been accustomed to obeying that tone instantly. That was Arthur's serious, danger, voice.

He blinked, turning his eyes to Arthur. They remained vacant for a moment more, the ash returning to the many piles littering the area, then he blinked again and they seemed to clear, blue once more. "Arthur?"

"I'm here. Are you alright?"

Merlin blinked again, shaking his head. This time he seemed to look around without actually taking anything in. "I'm sorry, I must have slipped from my horse. Clumsy me," he murmured, making ready to stand. He managed, wavering, to do it with Arthur's help.

Uncertainly, Arthur helped him up, worried about the sudden shift. Like Merlin had somehow managed to stop seeing what was in front of them. That was just as unhealthy as what he had been doing with the ash, putting faces to the charred remains. But he didn't push it. Merlin had seen much in his young life. If half of what Arthur had been shown in those visions was true- more than enough to break any man. Someway, somehow, the warlock always came through relatively unchanged. He obviously had a method for processing. Arthur hoped that was true.

He caught Merlin when he seemed to sag. "Merlin!"

"I'm sorry. Tired, suddenly," the younger man muttered, even as his eyes fluttered shut and it was only Arthur's arms that stopped him from going to the ground. Scooping the unconscious form into his arms, Arthur turned to find Gwaine already approaching with Arthur's horse.

"Are we setting up camp?" the Knight asked. Arthur shook his head, appreciating Gwaine's help in getting them both onto his horse, Merlin held tightly in front of him.

"We're half a day from the Castle. I think- I think he needs Gaius. He's in shock. You ride ahead, tell him what's happened, and make sure he's ready. I intend to ride hard, but we'll be slower two to a horse," Arthur commanded, once again half expecting an argument from the Knight, and was once again surprised when Gwaine was running for his own horse before he finished speaking.

Patting his horse apologetically, Arthur then put his heels to her, urging forward as fast as she could run. It was only a moment before Gwaine's horse flew past him, and he heard the two horses of Leon and Merlin's now empty horse pounding behind him.

"We're almost home, Merlin," Arthur whispered.

**_MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Gaius frowned when first Leon, then Arthur with a still unconscious servant in front of him, rode hard into the square. Gwaine had arrived only moments before, hastily explaining that Merlin was unconscious. Before he could say more, shouts from the wall and tower guards proclaimed the King had returned.

Leon dismounted quickly, taking the burden from his King, and rushing him up the stairs to Gaius's chambers, not even waiting on the older man, nor even permission from his King.

Arthur dismounted more slowly, sore from the hard ride. With Merlin safe with his guardian, he took a moment to put his forehead to the mares, petting her, soothing her as she panted. "Thank you," he whispered to her. Ever since the incident with the Unicorn, he had been somewhat more conscious of his behavior toward the horses. He handed her reins to a patiently waiting groom.

"Treat her very well, Groomsman. She's been pushed, and pushed herself even harder." She nipped at the leather on Arthur's shoulder, as if to thank him in return, then turned herself and obediently followed the groom.

He could the see the Council already coming onto the steps, frowns on every face, and wanted to groan. He wanted nothing more than to make his way to Merlin's side, but he knew he had much to answer for. Being King had its benefits but it also held trappings he couldn't escape. With a sigh, he plastered a smile on his face and went to face them.

**_MERLIN10101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Leon gently placed the young man on the cot in the middle of the room, stepping out of the way for Gaius to get to him.

"What's happened?" Gaius demanded. Leon shook his head.

"He's been unconscious since we rode into the area where he saved us. Arthur says he's in shock."

"I can't find anything necessarily wrong with him," Gaius spoke after a quick assessment. "He appears to be simply exhausted. Though I can see these scars, it looks like they've been Healed. I need more information."

"Do you need me to get Arthur?" the Knight asked, perfectly serious. He would interrupt the meetings Arthur was sure to have been drawn into by now without hesitating. He knew where the King's priorities were if anything was seriously wrong. None of them had been blind to the shift in their relationship since Merlin’s death.

Gaius shook his head. "I don't think he's in any danger, Leon. I think just letting him sleep is important. If that changes, I will inform the King."

"You need me to stay?" Leon asked, willing to do so. "I know Arthur would want a close eye on him, if you need for anything."

Gaius hesitated. Every action Arthur had taken had indicated that Merlin's Magic was accepted, but there were enough rumors floating around the city about Arthur's dragging him back for justice to make him nervous. Arthur had spent weeks with Merlin, knowing now, and then returned him to Camelot unconscious. He wanted to desperately hope those rumors were wrong, that Arthur had become a better man than his father. But a tiny part of him, a small voice that would not be silenced and that always worried about his ward, had cautioned him from too much hope.

Leon seemed to sense his internal battle. "Arthur cares for him, Gaius, and will see no harm comes to him that he can prevent."

"Arthur is King, and must obey the law," Gaius stated matter of fact, hiding behind his mask of professionalism.

"Arthur _is_ King, and has already made arrangements for the Law to be changed. He refused to let Merlin enter Camelot a prisoner. Gaius, you must hear me when I say this," Leon insisted, not sure the older man understood what he meant. "Arthur _loves_ Merlin, has lost him, and had him returned to him. There is no pride, Gaius, to stand in their way. No false images. You know as well as I that when Arthur loves he does so with his entire being. He doesn't know how to do it any other way. There is nothing on this earth that will bring harm to Merlin should the King be able to prevent it. He is _safe_."

Gaius let out a sigh, relaxing the slight hesitation that had been about him. He certainly knew their friendship went deep- more so than either man would admit- but he hadn't been certain it was deep enough for Arthur to overcome the hatred his father had bred into him. "Thank you, Leon. I feel much more at ease now. I wasn't sure-"

He was interrupted by a cry of _"no"_ from Merlin. They both stood quickly. The boy had tossed his head, and his face was scrunched up as though in pain. He cried out again, his tossing becoming more violent.

"Gaius?" the Knight questioned.

"I don't know!" He was holding Merlin's shoulders down, trying to stop him from rolling off the cot. There was no fever, no injury he could see. This, from what he could tell, was purely panic. Each time Merlin cried out, items would lift and throw themselves with enough force to shatter when they came into contact with an unyielding surface. He was about to shout for the Knight to leave, but noted he was already gone. Focusing back on the younger man it was becoming increasingly hard to hold as he struggled, he shouted, "Merlin! Stop this!"

He ducked as a glass vile went flying past him. He began to panic himself when a whirlwind began to form in the middle of the room, the strong winds pulling items toward it, then tossing it away. There was no control in this. Merlin's magic was reacting to something, and it was angry, and getting stronger.

Moments later, Arthur burst through the door. Gaius frowned. "Get back, Sire!" he shouted. He was surprised when he felt Arthur grab his arm and force him out the door. He struggled to stay with his ward, but he knew. This was dangerous, and Arthur was protecting him. Something thudded, hard, against the door behind them.

"Sire, I don't know-"

"I suspect I do, Gaius. I am sorry I haven't had time to explain it," Arthur answered quickly, his mind spinning with options. While he was considering his next action, they noticed the constant thuds had stopped. They could still hear the wind, but it was calming too.

Without hesitating, Arthur went to enter the room, motioning for Gaius to stay back. When he entered, he found the warlock on his hands and knees on the floor, breathing hard, shaking. His eyes were gold, like Arthur had seen in the clearing, but they were open. Sweat dripped down his face from effort. He was trying to stop it, Arthur realized, trying to regain control! He moved forward, kneeling beside him, ducking the odd book that still went flying. As soon as his hand touched the quivering back, something sparked between them, and then everything abruptly stopped. The wind died, the items fell, and the room was still again.

Merlin was panting, trying to suck air in as quickly as he was expelling it. Arthur rubbed circles on his back, soothing him. "Breathe, Merlin," he murmured. He took one of Merlin's hands and put it on his chest, then took slow, deliberate breaths so the boy could feel his chest expanding. "Like this."

Soon, Merlin was matching him, and Arthur saw the moment the tensed muscles relaxed. Finally, the servant looked at him with eyes that were once again a stunning azure, widened in apology and horror. "I'm sorry, Arthur- I don't know-"

"It's alright, Merlin. No one was hurt. Just a bit of a temper, it seems," Arthur grinned, covering his concern. It was clear that while the warlock was aware of what he had woken to, he had no memory of its cause. "Can you stand?"

He waited for Merlin to nod, then helped him slowly stand. His muscles were still quivering a little, but were determined to hold him up. "Gaius wants to see you," Arthur informed him, motioning toward the door.

"But what if I- it must have been so long without using it," Merlin finished, nodding, convincing himself. "It's obviously recovered. Yes. I'm ready."

Arthur blinked, surprised- but somehow not- the warlock didn't seem to remember having used it in the clearing. He wasn't sure what was going here, though, so he let it go- for now. "Obviously," he replied dubiously, turning to open the door to allow the physician back in.

Arthur took the opportunity to murmur to Gaius as he passed him.

"There's something not right here, Gaius. I'm not sure what it is. It could be, as he said, just his magic waking up after a long sleep. He's used it only once since the attack. But Gaius, you need to know- in defending us, he took a lot of lives. Keep your eyes sharp," he instructed.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Sire," Gaius acknowledged, loudly enough for the room to hear. "You should return to your duties and I will attend to mine." Arthur nodded. His message had been received, loud and clear. If he had insulted the older man by implying he'd be anything but vigilant, he didn't care. His skin was crawling, an all too familiar feeling of warning for him.

There _was_ something more going on, and somehow he sensed it posed a greater danger to all of them than anything they had faced before if they didn't get a handle on it soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**_AN: Slashy bits ahead- so minor it’s barely worth a warning._ **

**_MERLIN1010101011010MERLIN_ **

Life returned to normal in Camelot, for the most part. If Merlin's duties were lighter, no one mentioned anything, though he scowled at times. If Arthur didn't insult the lad quite as often as he used to, that, too, was soon the new normal for them. And none had the bravery to mention the odd occasion the King would startle back from deep thought, automatically reaching out to touch the younger man, as though to make sure he was still there.

Gwen seemed delighted to have them both back, and listened eagerly to the tales from Gwaine, Arthur and Leon about Ealdor and Hunith. Laughing when the three teased and mimicked how quickly the 'others' had jumped for her. It was clear to her that all three were equally guilty.

As an unspoken rule, they stayed well away from telling of the deadly events that had transpired. Only on his first night back did Arthur spend the night in Gwen's chambers, telling her everything, convinced Merlin would need her help. And, he admitted, for himself he needed her reassurance that he had not seemingly offered more than he'd intended. That their friendship would remain strong. He relied heavily on it.

He was relieved when she had chided him for being arrogant and full of himself to think he was such a high prize. Teasing aside, she admitted that she felt nothing but happiness for her two friends. And more, he felt grateful.

A small part of him remembered another life, where he had loved her, married her. It had been mostly a happy life together. He mourned that loss, sometimes. He had never denied loving her. But by a choice made, he was already bound to another fate. He had made a leap, and he had been determined keep faith in it- though there had been a brief period where that had been tested. He had been genuinely pleased to see her happy with Lancelot.

Nonetheless, she had enjoyed thoroughly teasing him about how she had known all along, and how stubborn he had been in admitting it. How much time he had wasted in pride, and how awful he had treated Merlin while he was in denial.

"You have a generous heart, Arthur, and are a true born romantic. It's a shame Merlin never got to see that side of you," she had hinted before leaving in the morning. “It’s never too late.”

He felt lighter- more free- than he had in a very long time. He felt at peace with himself, with the man he was turning out to be. He knew he had still much to learn, and hoped dearly those lessons would not cost anyone else he loved. The Dragon's warning was in his mind, too, now added to Gwen's. Human failings. It was true. He valued the banter of his relationship with Merlin, but that was friendship. Could he afford to show that tender side of himself? Would it even be a hesitation if it had been a woman he'd fallen in love with? Despite all his words, was he afraid of letting go of what was for what could be? Leave it to Gwen, he thought, to confuse him even when he thought he was thinking clearly.

"Sire, are you listening?" his councilman demanded, clearly aggravated, jolting the King out of his thoughts of the last few days. "This is no matter to smile about," the old man growled.

As he returned to the conversation, the unconscious smile that had been on his lips faded. No. Indeed. There was nothing to smile about here. "I have said it before, Lord Eringal, that I will not be the one to place judgment on Beonin's head." That sole fact, he knew, was the only reason Beonin had made it to Camelot alive at all.

Half the council grumbled, but it was Eringal that spoke against him. "It is simply ridiculous to have _Sir_ Beonin," he stressed the title, "locked up in the cells without any clear charges. He is a Knight of Camelot, and son to a Noble House. One we can ill afford to lose the loyalty of."

"I have stripped him of his Titles, and do _not_ test that again! Beonin lives now because I have not judged Merlin ready to be involved. Likely his treatment- and less than honorable arrival in Camelot under guard- would have already cost us. There have been enough rumors for all to know he has betrayed Camelot, even if the exact details are unclear. Yet his House does nothing. There have been no pleas in his case, no word. No, Lord Eringal, they sit, and they wait, to see where my mood will swing."

"As does half of Camelot, Sire," Gaius put in, and Arthur turned to him, surprised. But he shouldn't be. Gaius had been on his father's council, and his own, because he served the people of Camelot without bias. "This suspension cannot go on for much longer. You have announced the changing of the Law, Merlin is obviously not in chains, but the matter of Beonin is what all await. It is easy, Sire, to do good things. The people are waiting to see how you will handle one of your own."

"Gaius, you know why," Arthur ground out, feeling a little betrayed by the older man.

"You cannot wait, Sire. Either you must proclaim your own judgment, or tell Merlin what is expected of him. For the good of the people, and their faith in you, time is not a luxury you have."

Arthur pursed his lips, but nodded. Nowhere, he noted, in that speech had Gaius reassured him that Merlin was ready for this. Only that it had to be done, and soon. He nodded slowly. "Send him to my chambers when he returns from gathering your herbs, Gaius. The rest of you are dismissed," he waved them away, his eyes demanding Gaius stay where he was.

Once the others had left, clearly unhappy with not being included, Arthur rounded on the old man, furious.

" _Why_ did you force my hand like that?"

"Because like it or not, it is the truth. I do not sit on this Council to tell you only what you want to hear. Nor to push my personal feelings. I sit on this Council to be a voice for the people of Camelot, and this thing must be done," Gaius explained, steadfast. He sighed, deflating a little. "Whether I agree with it or not."

"You think I should handle it myself?"

"I think, Arthur, that you will do what you feel is best. It is not an easy position to be in. I would ask, however, that you consider whether you would offer this opportunity of justice to anyone else. I would also ask you to consider your reasons. Don't look at me that way- I've known you since swaddling cloth. You want to lash out, to address what you see as a personal insult, to protect your friend. And you are hoping that Merlin will stay your hand."

Arthur frowned, opened his mouth to reject it, then closed it again. Was Gaius right? Had Merlin been another Knight, this would have been solved internally- likely permanently. The knights did not take insults to each other- nor insults to the principles they stood for- lightly. But Merlin wasn't a knight, for all he had been adopted as one, and it was a Knight’s justice Arthur was offering him.

"I will consider your words carefully before I speak to him about this matter," Arthur acknowledged. Gaius stood to leave, but Arthur held him back. "Gaius, is he- is he all right?"

The old man seemed to age in front of him. "I don't know what to tell you that you can't already see for yourself, Sire. He won't talk to me. I sent him off for herbs today because I thought some time to himself might help."

Arthur smirked. "You hoped he'd call the Dragon."

Gaius blinked, but nodded. "Sorry, Sire, old habits die even harder in old men."

Arthur shook his head. "If the Dragon can sense half of what I can, he'll go to Merlin once he's alone. I just don't think Merlin is in the right place to listen."

Gaius cocked his head curiously. "And what is it you can sense, Sire?"

"Turmoil, Gaius," Arthur replied absently, his mind focused on that bond. He had learned some control with it, some use of it. The Dragon had told him it could be done, and with Merlin refusing to talk much to anyone, he'd put all his determination into learning it. "Great strife. He's hurting on a level so deep he can barely perceive it himself. There's a growing shadow, now, in the light. He's confused. And lost… Gaius, he's so lost…"

"Arthur!" The young King blinked, pulled out of his focus by two rough hands shaking his shoulders. "Arthur, that bond was never meant to be used in such a way. I urge caution. This, what you two share, has never been done before. At least not and put into writing. We don't know what could happen to you. Especially with Merlin's emotions being as unstable as they are."

"I'll be careful, Gaius," Arthur reassured him. The arched eyebrow he received in return of clear disbelief disabused him swiftly of any notion of comfort. "Send him to my chambers when he returns. No matter how late."

**_MERLIN1010101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur paced his room impatiently. He had already tried to sleep, but given up on that. He was nervous, he admitted. He shivered in the cool of the room, especially wearing only his breeches and boots- he hadn't wanted Merlin to feel threatened- and considered lighting the hearth fire, again, and, again, dismissed it. He would give it one more hour, then he'd give up- the same he had resolved to do two hours ago. Surely Gaius wouldn't disobey him. Not after all but forcing this.

Arthur frowned at the cold fire pit. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing in pushing this. Life, for the most part, had returned to normal. The Knights were back into their training schedules, Arthur met with Council, Gwen ran the Castle and pursued their diplomatic relations, the people went about their daily business.

Except Merlin. Merlin went about his days too. He did his chores wordlessly, and without complaint. His mouth smiled at them all, and he joked with the other servants. He served silently in many of those Council meetings, the picture of a perfect servant.

And every day, the dark circles under his eyes got bigger. The smiles were smaller, and never reached his eyes. He picked at his food. But mostly it was the silence that unnerved the King. Merlin was never silent. There were no looks in the meeting, no cautiously raised eyebrows, no silly expressions in response to idiocy, no slight nods of approval. He stood, perfectly still, water pitcher in hand, vacant eyes focused only on Arthur's cup.

Whenever he was asked how he was doing, Merlin bristled, thanked you for the inquiry over his health, and left the room. And not just on Arthur. He had walked out of Council Meetings, walked away from friends.

They were all worried about him, but he had a mask fixed in place designed to convince them all- including himself- that he was fine. Slowly, day by day, the others came to accept he had simply been through a lot, and needed only time and routine.

Arthur knew better. He had been working with the Bond, exploring how far he could use it as the Dragon had suggested. It was… changing. There was something creeping along it now, insidious and dark. Any time he touched it, he fled in terror. He knew his friend. Knew those circles were a lack of sleep. Knew Gaius was exhausted being kept awake by Merlin's screaming nightmares. Especially since they sent his magic wild. When woken, Merlin would blink, and not understand the old healer's concern. That he was well healed from the injuries and that Gaius simply worried too much- and why was the room such a mess?

The boy knew he was tired, knew he was on edge, knew something was preventing him from fully resting- but he didn't know what or _why_. In that, Arthur believed him. Whether it was because he wouldn't let himself see, or he genuinely didn't remember.

This couldn't go on. If Merlin were to heal- to regain control of his magic- he needed to face whatever it was that was haunting him. Arthur thought he had a likely suspicion, but this wasn't something he could ride in and save his friend from. This monster came from within.

He released a sigh of relief when he heard the soft, tentative, knock on his door. He called for entry, happy to see Merlin at long last, but frowned grimly when caught sight of the guards posted outside his door when the boy entered. Obviously Gaius had sent extra. Whether to protect him, or protect the young warlock, he wasn't sure. Luckily, he was surrounded by good friends and had his own form of back up in place as well. He'd wager far more on his choice than the guards.

Merlin looked at the now closed door where Arthur was frowning. "Since when are there guards on your door?" he asked.

"Protocol," Arthur answered shortly. Merlin was dressed in the jet black breeches and tunic he had given him in Ealdor. They looked even better on him now that they had had a chance to form to him a little better. Despite the dark circles, he looked a little lighter this evening. "You were gone a long time."

Merlin blushed. "Sorry, Arthur. The herbs Gaius sent me for are hard to find. Did you need me to tidy up before you go to bed?" he asked, automatically bending down to scoop up a shirt left on the floor.

"I need to talk to you about Beonin."

Merlin froze, momentarily, then continued to stand back up. "Maybe not tonight. I'll clean in the morning. You're probably tired."

"Merlin, there's no avoiding this. I've got the entire Council on my back wanting this settled."

Merlin tensed. "The Council, Sire, is your problem, not mine."

"Merlin!" Arthur barked angrily. "I have allowed a lot lately, but you will not speak to me that way. Not only as your King, but as your… friend… I deserve more respect than that." He hesitated over the more familiar title. He didn't know what they were. Friends, definitely, and something more. Except they hadn't been _more_ since returning to Camelot. Every time Arthur wanted to take the young man in his arms and kiss him blind, the warlock had avoided any and all such opportunities for any action of the kind.

Merlin had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Sire."

Arthur nodded, ignoring, for now, the 'sire' he was beginning to hate hearing from the young man- especially in private- and returned to pacing the room. "I know this isn't easy, but I will confess, I'm at a loss and could use your advice." He stopped when Merlin shook his head.

"He's Noble born, Arthur. And he didn't actually _do_ anything, since you survived the attack and he has refused to give details on how he aided the mercenary army into Camelot. And with none left... left alive to testify that he was even involved. There's no proof, and therefore, no crime."

Arthur stared at him. "Nothing wrong? He tried to _kill_ you! He threatened Gwaine. He tried to sell you both to mercenaries. Not to mention some of the lies he told you made your illness worse-"

"I'm just a servant, Arthur. And a magic user. By your father's laws, he did nothing wrong," the warlock deadpanned, as if he had removed himself entirely from being on the receiving end of that sword. As if Gwaine hadn't been the only reason they were both standing here today. As if the Knight wasn't the reason his Magic had been forcibly outed.

The King grabbed his servant's arms, shaking him, as fury washed over him. "For less than those sins I would separate him from his head. For those, I would have him drawn and quartered in public just to start," Arthur hissed. "Left to me, he would rot in the dungeons, fed and watered only enough to keep him alive, left to contemplate when I might decide to end his miserable existence. I would have him burned on a pyre of greenwood for the hell he put you through. _Now_ tell me I'm fit to make this judgment."

Merlin blinked, and something seemed to _finally_ penetrate those vacant eyes. "No, Arthur," he murmured. "There must be true justice, not revenge, not anger driven hatred. You are not your Father, to be blinded so."

"I'm very capable of it, Merlin. When you... when you died, I threatened to wage a war on magic that promised to make it weep through Ages. Kilgharrah almost couldn't heal you because of the things _I_ promised. And hear me, Merlin, if you had not been returned to me, I _would_ have made good on every one. For those mercenaries, I sent Gwaine back to wipe out any survivors, and without so much as a twinge in my conscience. Not because they attacked _me_ , but because of what they did to _you_." He took a deep breath. "For you, Merlin, I would march through Hell itself. Anything, except lose you," he whispered fiercely. “I would have his head for creating the ghosts that whisper in your ear, even now.”

Merlin shook his King off, stepping back, shaking his head, retreating. "Arthur, don't."

Arthur knew, then, what he had to do. He had hoped with all his heart it wouldn't come to this, but it had. For Merlin's own good, he had to proceed. This couldn't continue. It was time to summon the demon.

"You told me, what we had, it meant _everything_ to you. Were you lying then, or now?" Arthur demanded, stepping forward with each of Merlin's retreats until the young man backed into the wall, unable to retreat anymore. He pressed his naked chest to the younger man's, feeling how quickly he was breathing. "I thought we were beyond lies, Merlin," he pushed. "If it was just a momentary amusement, then by all means, let's be amused."

Arthur forced his lips against Merlin's, hating it, hating what we was doing, saddened that it had come to this. His own Hell, then, to march through to help Merlin, as he'd promised. He dove in again, harder this time, his hands gripped the thin shoulders hard, showing off his not inconsiderable strength. The boy in his arms writhed miserably, trying to push him off, to escape. He was no match for Arthur physically. Arthur bucked his hips forcefully against the servants as he continued the savage kiss, feeling ill as he did it.

"NO!" Merlin suddenly roared, blue eyes flashing gold, and then Arthur was against the opposite wall of the alcove, held against it by a barrier of magic. The King noted that he had not been shoved hard enough to actually hurt, despite his cruelty. He forced a mocking expression into his features, twisting them.

"Are you not amused? Did you not want the King's attentions? There are many who would. You won't be the first man I've bedded," Arthur sneered. "Or is this a part of your game?"

Merlin had his head down, leaning his hands on his knees, half bent over, panting hard, as if trying to keep control of himself. His entire frame visibly trembling under what seemed incredible effort. He needed to let go, and Arthur's heart was breaking with every word. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the boys' misery. _Please, Merlin_ , he silently begged. _We need to end this_.

Aloud, he snorted. "Almighty warlock my arse. I've horses can do better tricks than this. Gwen has shoved me harder. Surely you can do better? How long can you hold me, Merlin? You can barely control your magic, and it’s exhausting you. You wanted my affections, you wanted favor, you wanted the laws changed, and you played a King to do it. You've succeeded. It's time to pay for what you've bought. When I get out of this, I'm going to- "

"You _Fool_ ," Merlin's voice echoed through the room. It was deep, powerful, authoritative. In it was all the magic he had been born to represent. When he finally looked up, finally drew himself to stand tall, Arthur saw his eyes were molten, flowing, gold, burning intensely. Blue flames sprang up around the young man, but didn't burn him. Strong winds began to whistle in the small space, reacting to a source of power deeply connected with the Earth itself, objects and linen flying from their places. The bar across the door slid down to lock it from the inside. Thunder roared around the room. Not a word of a spell crossed Merlin's lips. This was power from a source too deep for either man to ever fully recognize.

Arthur let out a deep breath, wanting to laugh- wanting to cry- thankful, finally, to have gotten to it. He could feel it in the Bond- Merlin had _finally_ accessed that oil slick vein of darkness that had been interwoven into the light that was the manifestation of everything that was _them_. He watched the display, understood its source, and expected to feel some measure of fear. He was surprised to find he felt none.

Perhaps this had been a test for himself, as well. He had touched that darkness himself, knew its depths, knew he would lose his warlock to its seductive power if nothing was done to prevent it. He should be trembling in fear, but he wasn't. Because he trusted in his friend. He trusted in their bond. Merlin was powerful, magnificent… and was absolutely _beautiful_. Arthur's breath caught and he knew this image would stay with him forever.

"Who do you think you're toying with, _boy_?" Merlin demanded, his voice booming. "I am Emrys, Chosen of the Triple Goddess. I wield the forces of the Earth, of time itself, with mere _thought_. I could decimate Camelot with less than that." The gold sparked brighter for moment, and then turned- black. Merlin's eyes were solid black. Arthur felt the first hint of trepidation. This had been a risk, he reminded himself. He had to have confidence that they could banish this. He firmed his resolve.

"Then go ahead," Arthur forced himself to goad. He smirked as mockingly as he could manage. "Except you can't. This is all very flashy, but ultimately useless. You don't scare me, warlock, you never have. You can't hurt Camelot, Merlin, you can't hurt me." He smiled confidently down at the barrier across his chest, reaching for the remaining light in their shared Bond, making a request of it, convincing it that this was for the warlock's own good, and within moments it disappeared. He stepped freely away from the wall, spreading his arms wide with a smirk. "See?"

"Do not push me, Arthur. As you have shown your father's influence on you, he is not without his influence on _me_ ," Merlin snarled, and twisted his hand. The room was gone, suddenly. They were standing in the City Square, people running, screaming in terror all around them. Smoke billowed through the air as flames leapt from building to building. "Can't hurt you, Arthur? I can _destroy_ you," Merlin roared. Gwen suddenly stood beside him, looking terrified, held up on her tip toes by his magic. "I can bring to crumble everything you hold dear, and leave you to live. I can personally assure you, _Sire_ ," he spit the title with contempt, "that there _are_ fates considerably worse than death."

Arthur looked around, and forced himself to focus on the warlock in front of him. It looked real, smelled real, even the weight of his chainmaille felt heavy. He knew it was an illusion. If he concentrated, he could still hear the guards pounding on his door over the din of the chaos he was currently in. He refused to look at Gwen, afraid he might lose his knowledge of reality. This was all of design, he reminded himself. Dredged up imagery from some of the worst attacks on Camelot. Merlin was _trying_ to frighten him, to make him afraid of his magic, trying to make Arthur fear _him_.

And suddenly, it all fell into place for Arthur. He _knew_ what this was. _"I can personally assure you..."._ He dropped his defensive stance. "Then do it," he stated, tossing his sword to the side. "Kill her." Merlin blinked, his surprise showing in the quick flash from black to gold to blue to back to a blackish gold. Arthur nodded, waving his hand in a bored fashion. "Go ahead, then. I haven't got all night, and sooner or later, your magic will tire. So. Best be about it then."

He walked slowly forward as he spoke, cocky, arrogant, and all the things he'd once been in his youthful pride. Merlin roared in anger, the ground shaking with it. Arthur really hoped that was part of the illusion as well or he'd have a lot of explaining to do. Weapons flew at him from all directions, but he made no efforts to dodge them, and never flinched. Always they dropped if they came within inches of him. This was another leap of faith. That in their destiny, Merlin's magic could never truly hurt him. He didn't stop until he stood within arms’ reach of the servant.

Merlin frowned, then looked at Gwen, at her terror. He wavered, the struggle clear on his face, his eyes flashing through all three colors in a fascinating way. Only a year ago, he thought, this would have been enough for the King to have run him through already. In his heart or hearts, he knew. He could create a display- but that was all. He could never hurt those he loved, not deliberately. His eyes filled with tears. But he had. He had done so much worse.

"You can't do it, Merlin. Not to Gwen, who loves you so much. You are _not_ this… thing… you have created," Arthur said softly, his expression turning tender, and forgiving. It never lost its confidence, though. Shining moisture was bright against the now pure gold of the eyes that begged him to stop, to believe in the creation.

"I am- I will-" The power flames around him seemed to dim in his uncertainty.

"You can't, Merlin," Arthur repeated softly, now inches from the trembling warlock. "She's an illusion, not even real, and you can't." Without thinking, he waived his own hand, accessing their bond again, and she disappeared. The flames dimmed further. Tears fell on the warlock's face.

"Arthur, I'm dangerous-" Merlin whimpered, his voice back to normal now.

Arthur took the young man's face in his hands. "No, Merlin, you're not," he insisted quietly, leaning his forehead against the sorcerers. "You are everything that is good and kind and wonderful in this world."

The illusion shattered into shards around them, like broken glass, and they were standing again in his chambers. The blue flames snuffed out, the winds and thunder calmed and gone. All an illusion. All a demonstration of power. All false. Hurt, angry, sorrowful azure eyes were all that remained.

"I _am_ evil," Merlin whispered, his tears coming faster now. "I am everything your father said I was." The sob that escaped him broke Arthur's heart, and he closed his own eyes in despair, trying to push back his own tears. He knew this had had to happen, but it hurt him to have been forced to push his friend to this state.

"I am so sorry you had to live through that, Merlin. I can't imagine how you found the strength to live with that kind of terror every day." He opened his eyes again so Merlin could see his own- could know he _believed_ what he was saying. "My father was wrong, Merlin. I was wrong too, for a long time. Your good has proved more powerful than any of the evils thrown against us. We were just too blind to see it. And we- _I_ \- hurt you in the process, and I can never apologize enough for that."

Merlin shook his head, unable to believe through his own doubt, through the voices that screamed at him every night. "Those men- so much power, Arthur. No spell, no incantation. I killed 500 men with a thought. That- what I did-" He crumpled into himself, heaving with his sobs and misery, sliding to the floor, curling himself over his knees.

As he did so, the door finally burst open, and Merlin flinched against the sound, but made no move to rise or defend himself. He deserved whatever came. Arthur flinched against another, similar, picture in his mind. Merlin now, like then, would not defend against any punishment deemed deserved by those around him. Guards rushed in even as Arthur moved to stand between the figure on the floor and the threat, understanding Merlin would make no move to protect himself.

"Step away, King Arthur," one of them ordered. All of them had crossbows and lances trained on the warlock.

"Leave," Arthur commanded. The guards blinked, exchanging uncertain looks. Then the oldest shook his head.

"Regretfully, Sire, we cannot. He is a known magic user, and magic has been done this night. It's possible he's spelled you," the man stood a little straighter. "We will escort the sorcerer to the cells, as is properly done."

Arthur's face was red with rage, and he was about to let his temper loose, but he was saved by a heavily indignant voice from behind them. "What is the meaning of this?" Gwen demanded, moving through the guards.

"The King is in danger, My Ladyship," the guard stammered out. Gwen looked over at the scene, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes locked with Arthur's, taking in his slight nod. Straightening her shoulders, she whirled on the Guards. Arthur would have smirked had he not been so furious. He knew from experience how hard it was being the focus of Gwen's disapproval. Since her raising to Queen Regent, she had learned to manipulate her authority well, mixing it with the general uncertainty among most of just what her authority was when Arthur was in Camelot. When absent, her power was absolute. It was that power she called on now.

"I see the King standing with not a scratch on him, and a warlock on the floor. Go on now, you have no business here," she insisted, spreading her arms and walking forward as she herded them out.

"But, my Lady…"

"Shoo! And you can report to Sir Leon, inform him of what you've done. Daring to disturb the King at this late hour with your foolishness! Really. Shame on you. Go on now," Gwen ordered. She continued forward, giving them no choice. They could either forcibly remove her, or leave. Once they had all been vacated from the room, she turned back to look at Arthur, her eyes gentling as they rested on Merlin, filling with tears for his suffering, but she smiled at her friend. "Look after him." She left them.

Gwen's gentle heart- and the win of his own earlier private wager against Gaius- soothed his anger, and he wasted no time in crouching before the shaking man. "Merlin, it's all right. No one is taking you anywhere."

"They should," he moaned. "It's not safe, Arthur. I could hurt you. I _tried_ to hurt you. I should leave." He had to. It was the only way to keep Arthur and Camelot safe. Loss rushed through him with the thought. To leave his home. The people he loved behind, would be the ultimate punishment. He knew it was right, he knew-

Arthur didn't hesitate to gather the sobbing young man into his arms. From all powerful to frail and so very human in a half span of time. "That, Merlin, is the _only_ thing you could ever do to hurt me." He clutched the boy tighter, not bothering to hide his desperation to prevent his worst nightmares from coming true, feeling true fear for the first time since this had begun. "What happened to those men was horrible. I know what this is, Merlin, I've felt it too. Some of the things we've had to do under the name of duty- it's not fair that they were ever asked of us. Each time we take a life, we have to remember what we're saving. You killed hundreds, but how many times have you saved _thousands_?"

"But my magic…"

"Is a weapon, no different than my sword. The blood stains just aren't quite as easy to wipe off. The scariest thing about us, Merlin, is the lengths we'll go to in order to protect those we love and care about. We'll damn our own souls in the process and do so without hesitation."

"Limits," Merlin gasped out. "There has to be limits."

Arthur shook his head, releasing the servant from his embrace and instead tilting his face so that their eyes met. "There are no limits on love, Merlin. What I said was true. When you died… there would have been no end to the suffering I brought Magic. Am _I_ evil?"

"No!" Merlin denied fiercely, as always his own pain forgotten in his rush to defend Arthur. "You were grieving-"

"So was my father. Only his grief had no end. Had you stayed dead, I don't think mine would have either. I can't begin to guess how different things would be if he hadn't allowed his grief to turn to hatred, if he had been lucky enough to have someone like you," Arthur smiled gently.

"I think your father acted out of love, Arthur," Merlin murmured, shocking the King. "You were so precious to him. A bargain gone wrong took your mother. He wasn't the type of man to remain powerless to protect you. He was wrong in how he went about it, but I think the source was true and genuine."

Arthur took in a shaky breath, the words piercing him deeply. Since he'd been old enough to understand what he was hearing, there had been rumors of Uther's cruelty, his hatred, his absolute certainty in the corruption of magic. He'd spent many years angry at his father for the horrors he had laid on the land, but he had still loved him. Merlin's benediction of kindness toward the one man he had every right to hate made Arthur's heart clench and leap all at once.

He kissed the young man, laughing. "Merlin, with your heart to guide me, your capacity for forgiveness for everyone but yourself, I can see why Magic placed its hopes in you." He bent in to kiss him again, but Merlin turned away, shaking even as he scrambled onto his feet in the small space, backing away from the King.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned hesitantly, standing slowly, unsure of the origin of this new agitation. He noted the warlock hadn't gone far. "Merlin, it's all right."

"Do you-" Merlin licked his lips, wrapping his arms around himself. "Do you really think I was playing you just so you'd change the law?" He'd heard some others whispering something similar. How he had wormed his way into the King's bed just to keep his head. Arthur's words- ' _it's time you paid for what you bought'_ \- had cut dangerously close to those rumors.

Arthur winced, reaching out and pulling the warlock to him, regretting his choice of words. "No! Merlin, you weren't talking. I had to- I _had_ to make you angry. You were so lost-" he stopped, frowning. A reflex exploration of their bond let him know that shadow on it had lessened greatly, but there was still that sense of- searching, and doubt. "You're still lost. Let me help you find your way," he offered.

"I could- I don't have control-"

And Arthur understood they weren't just talking about his magic. Merlin needed, but wouldn't ask for himself, not after what he had done. He wasn't sure if Arthur had been just being brave, or genuinely wasn't afraid of him. He wasn't sure Arthur still wanted him, now that he was alive, and safe, and the potential threat of losing him to Gwen was still real to him. Merlin wasn't sure if he deserved what he so desperately wanted.

He leaned forward and kissed the younger man, not letting him pull away this time. He was not afraid of Merlin. Not of his magic, and not of loving him. "Take it, Merlin," Arthur whispered huskily. "With all my heart, take everything that I am, and make it yours. _Take it_."

Merlin hesitated only a moment more before, with a deep growl, he gave over, abandoned control and thought and simply existed in the kiss, the roving hands, and Arthur's obvious encouragement. He was still too uncertain to take all that Arthur was clearly offering, but he could take enough...


	16. Chapter 16

Arthur watched Merlin work around his room, seemingly content and at ease after their confrontation a week ago. There was… something… that still had the warlock on edge, but the King couldn't put his finger on it.

Still. The dark circles were almost completely gone, and he smiled more. Genuine smiles, this time. The Knights took care to watch out for him, too, to make sure they not only spent time with him, but were seen doing it.

He almost hated to risk the jovial mood, but there had been some questions digging at him for years. They had shared short tales while Merlin recovered in Ealdor, but Arthur had held back on the heavier topics.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about your magic?" Arthur tossed out casually, watching closely as the warlock stumbled in his current bend, straightening quickly.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why didn't you ever tell me yourself? I can guess your reasons, but I want to hear them," Arthur persisted.

"Arthur-" Merlin shook his head, looking down at the armful of dirty laundry in his arms. Was the King ready to hear this? Was he ready to speak it? The real truth? He knew what he could say. Knew what would satisfy the King, just enough. But wasn't this an opportunity? He hadn't been able to willingly share his Magic with Arthur. Could this be an opportunity to take some of that back? Or would it be an ending?

The King watched the debate happening inside his friend. This was a huge moment. If Merlin lied now, everything they were becoming was for nothing. He knew a part of the servant understood that. He also knew a lifetime of habits, council from others, and fear could scar more deeply than anyone would ever see. He couldn't even be angry, since he, himself, had inflicted some of the deepest wounds. He waited patiently, making a point to let Merlin know he wasn't hurrying him. He hoped for the truth, though a small part of him was prepared for… not a lie, but perhaps a half truth.

"At first," Merlin started, seeming to find it more comfortable to continue tidying the room as he spoke rather than have to face his King. "It was simple. Magic was outlawed. As if Mum hadn't drilled it in deep enough to keep secret, the very first thing I saw in Camelot was a sorcerer being killed. The few days that followed- it was clear. Your father hated magic without room for reason or circumstance. And, of course, you were a Prat."

Arthur chuckled, nodding his assent and agreement to the statement. He waved for the boy to continue. "And then?"

Merlin stopped cleaning then, looking directly at his King. If he was going to tell it all, he needed Arthur to see him. "And then you grew. We faced terrible odds together, and always I knew the people were your first priority, even if you did have some rough spots. It gave me hope of what you could someday become- but weren't yet. It was the beginning of believing in the future you would create, in my great Cause. And the beginning of understanding what I would give for it. My life was easy enough to commit, but my heart- my trust, was something altogether different."

Arthur felt his heart tighten as he remembered how poorly he had treated his servant, how often he had accused Magic of being evil, how quick he'd been to kill. Memories from another life filtered through, and he sighed. All that knowledge hadn't given him instant wisdom. He'd made mistakes, along the way, sure he had changed enough only to discover what he had not. Merlin was right. In his hubris, he had failed to see many signs, many warnings. Had been far too confident until he had started to learn that things would only change when _he_ made the effort.

"Time went on. When you asked me about using magic to heal your father, I thought, maybe this was it. But then it went horribly wrong," Merlin continued, voice and expression saddened. "When… when Uther passed, I considered telling you then, if only so I could explain, give you the peace of knowing what actually happened. But your grief needed to be about him. About you. After, I opened my mouth so many times to tell you. A little part of me died every day you didn't know. It- it hurt. To love you, to lie to you. But I snapped my mouth shut every time because the honest truth was, I was scared," Merlin confessed quietly, looking down into the laundry.

Arthur frowned. "Of me killing you?" he asked, saddened and bitter. He remembered, all too clearly, the vicious words he had flung at Merlin in his anger, in his grief. _‘All I know is I've lost both my parents to magic. It is truly evil. I won't forget it again.’_ Made worse still by his knowledge. They had been said deliberately. They had been _meant_ to hurt the younger man. Once his mind had cleared a little, there had been no way to express his regret of them. He didn't blame Merlin for being scared, for not being able to trust him.

Merlin shook his head. "No. Of letting me live knowing what I had lost."

It was simply stated, but there was so much more behind it. A fate worse than a quick death would ever be. Arthur pursed his lips as he considered. He had hoped for the truth, he thought. He'd received it. There had never been any guarantee he would like what he heard.

"I feel like there's something I haven't said, Arthur. Since all this began- I haven't said thank you. And I haven't said I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. "Except, I can't say I'm sorry. I _want_ to. I want to apologize for every lie, for every time I had to hide from you. But in the end, there was too much at stake. With Morgana and the magical attacks- I couldn't risk you sending me from Camelot. I was needed. It isn't arrogance to say that. I was your only magical weapon. So I'm not sorry for keeping it from you for that reason. I _am_ sorry to have kept it from you out of fear. For that part, I ask your forgiveness. But not for the other. Not for protecting Camelot. Not for protecting _you_. Never for that."

Arthur nodded, completely understanding. He had done terrible, awful things to protect those he loved most, to protect his people. Before his reign was done, he will have done even more still. It was their destiny, these two men, to sacrifice their souls for the greater good.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur began, clearing his throat to remove the lump that had taken up residence. "For being honest. I want you to know I respect the strength it took for you to do what you did, to do it from the shadows. I'm not sure I would have done the same for so thankless a people."

Merlin grinned at him, fully confident. "Yes you would have. You've never shied away from doing what's right, Arthur. Not once it's clear to you. I have watched you disobey your father time and again, I have watched you put your life on the line for those of your people… all the while hearing the council of voices around you say different, tell you to stay on a pedestal made of glass because of your position- at least until it was convenient to them to remove you from it. Strength, Arthur, we've each never had any problem summoning. Courage is easy. No, our weakness has always been the same."

Arthur nodded. "We fear outliving those we love most." Arthur shuddered as he remembered. The first vision had shown him life from Merlin's view point. The second, his own. Both had been full of pain, of regret, and of love absolute in its ferocity.

Merlin nodded, dumped the laundry into the waiting basket, and left the room.

**_MERLING101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Gwen found him later that evening, standing at the window in his chambers, watching his people move around the square. He didn't turn to her until she put a hand on his shoulder. "You look deep in thought," she said gently.

"Considering how lucky I am," he answered. He nodded down to the citizens of Camelot. "You came from simple roots, and your heart will be the guiding force of the Kingdom. With Merlin at my side, I have loyalty- from you both a deep wisdom I would have otherwise been denied during my rule. My Knights, they offer courage and bravery and justice. My people- they give hope. They give us something to work for, to serve. I've always believed my role was to serve my people… I just never thought that sometimes, there's more to it than protecting borders and homes. Sometimes, it takes recognizing that greatness comes from deeds, not bloodlines."

Gwen sighed happily. "You've come such a long way from the boy I once chastised for being selfish," she murmured. "You are every bit the King we all knew you could be."

Arthur smiled. "It took a lot of people to get me here," he grinned. "It can't have been an easy job."

"Oh, it wasn't," Gwen laughed. "We always knew you had potential. We just didn't know how to shape it. Not until Merlin confronted you that day in the market. I think many of us knew then, that you needed him. I'm sad to say it took us considerably longer to recognize how much he needed you, too."

"He cheated," Arthur shot back automatically, enjoying this quiet moment of companionship. He was lucky to have her as a close confidant, friend, and ally. Though he had twisted Fate to make it so, she was every bit the Queen she had been destined to be.

"Of course he did. It was the first time he did something underhanded for your own good, but it wasn't the last. Through the years he managed to drag us all into a few awful plans. We went along because we knew he always had your best interests at heart," she reminisced fondly.

"Did his bad plans always work out?" Arthur asked absently, and Gwen knew what he was really thinking about.

"He did right by letting Beonin go, Arthur. I am just as angry as you are, but in the end, Merlin was right. His only crime was in betraying you, in making that contract. And since he somehow managed to talk Gwaine into also dropping the charges, you really had no choice. That's what Trials are for. Still, I think you were right too, in maintaining the revoking of his Knighthood, Title and Lands, as well as banishing him. His family accepted it and considered themselves lucky for it. It was a light sentence, for treason."

Arthur nodded. The Council had been appeased, if not entirely pleased, with his compromise. He couldn't shake the feeling that Gaius had already known how it would all fall out. He worried, though, that the decision would come back to haunt him. He shook his head, and turned around, facing her. "You didn't come here to talk about old times."

"No, but they are mostly fond memories," Gwen answered. "I came to talk about Merlin."

Arthur frowned. "We were just speaking. He seems fine."

"Have you seen him use magic? Even to do his chores?" Gwen asked pointedly. "Time slips away from us, Arthur. You told me the Dragon warned you Morgana has not been idle. You have changed the laws, it is known he shares your affections, and the people have unofficially accepted him as your Consort- even without the official title. He has all the protection he needs to be openly exercising and training his sword arm- but he does not."

Arthur frowned. He hadn't considered that Merlin's magic, like his own weapons training, needed to be exercised. The warlock had killed 500 men with a _thought,_ injured and exhausted as he had been. Had secretly defended Camelot for years before that. Was it possible he could improve if he practiced? He knew Merlin's ability was one born, not acquired. Did it make a difference? Could study help him gain control?

Gaius would have those answers. But... "Gwen, he's afraid of himself right now. That won't go away with a good tantrum. It helps, for sure, but I know. These things take time. He's afraid he's capable of evil. However much _we_ know that's impossible, the fear is very real to _him_. I remember after my first real battle- I had killed dozens. It took a month afterwards- and a great deal of pushing from my father- for me to pick up a sword again," Arthur confessed. "Even still, that same blade remains untouched in the armory to this day."

A year before Merlin had come to Camelot, an eager to please servant of his- a recent hire- had taken it upon himself to clean it and present it to him. He'd pitched a royal fit, fired the servant, and tossed him out of the castle with a dire warning to never return. He wasn't proud of how he'd acted, and blushed now to think of it. But that stained blade had been a reminder of something he'd unconsciously never wanted to forget. That every battle had a price, and it wasn't always measurable in bodies or blood.

"You had another sword to take up," Gwen murmured. "He does not. And we need him ready."

Arthur looked at her in surprise. "You always surprise me, Gwen. Pushing him will hurt him."

Gwen nodded sadly. "And my heart aches for that, for my friend. But, Arthur, we are responsible for all of Camelot. I have taken my role as Queen Regent seriously, and in that I must first always think of the people."

"You do, Gwen. I have never had cause to regret my decision. Merlin continuously praises it as being my one and only bright idea," Arthur chuckled. "I have always placed great value on your insight, wisdom, and advice."

"So hear my words in this, Arthur, and know them for truth. Whether you give him Titles or not, Merlin is our Court Sorcerer and our Protector. Our Knights are brave, but if Merlin proved nothing else over these years, it's that steel is woefully useless against Magic. For the love of Camelot, Arthur, he _must_ be ready, however much we may feel regret in asking yet more of him."

Her eyes held such earnest regret and determination. He thought, sometimes, that in not marrying her, he had gained an even greater ally than he'd had in those memories. She had no reason to rush to please him. Nothing to gain by his favor. He could take her title away on a whim. She had never truly cared for it, accepting only because he had convinced her of all the good she could do for the people of Camelot. She had no motive to be anyone but herself.

He knew she loved the servant as much as he did, in her own way. She would not be suggesting this lightly. He nodded. "I promise, I'll talk to Gaius."


	17. Chapter 17

Arthur paced outside the physicians chambers. Wondering, again, whether this was the right decision- but he had promised Gwen this. She would never have asked if she didn't feel it was important. He'd never broken a promise to her. Still. There was a part of him that didn't agree with this. He knew the scars- visible and otherwise- any warrior bore. He knew they took time to heal. Had Merlin actually been a Knight, he would have been furloughed to recover, to regain his balance. Was it fair to demand the same sacrifices but not offer the same benefits?

He had just about decided to go back and explain to Gwen why this wasn't right when the door opened, revealing a surprised Gaius.

"Sire," the old man greeted.

"Gaius, we need to talk," Arthur answered strongly, moving inside the chamber before he had a chance to talk himself out of this again. Fate, it seemed, had made his decision for him.

"As you wish," Gaius set down his medicine bag. Obviously he'd been about to go out to make his rounds. Had it been an emergency he was heading for, Arthur knew the physician would have put him off.

"Merlin's magic... "Arthur trailed off, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know. Gaius merely stood, waiting patiently for Arthur to continue. Stubborn old man wasn't going to be much help. Since Merlin's magic had become public knowledge, he had willingly answered questions, but had never volunteered information. Old dogs and new tricks, it seemed. "Is it like being a Knight? Does he need to... well, practice- train?"

Gaius looked thoughtful, his aged eyes looking for any sign that this answer might bring harm to his ward. Arthur tried to look sincere and honest, though he couldn't fully hide the doubt he was feeling. "Most sorcerers need to study, and practice. Merlin's magic is different in that he was _born_ powerful. It's instinctive. There's never been a being like him before, Arthur, and as such, there are no rules, no histories to look up."

"That's a very safe answer, Gaius, but doesn't tell me what I want to know. I do know that he is Camelot's protector. I know Morgana isn't finished with us yet. I also know Merlin hasn't been using his magic at all. What I _don't_ know is whether it's important for him to exercise that muscle now that he can do so openly."

"I don't know, Arthur. Merlin has never hesitated to do whatever was necessary to protect Camelot and those he loves. Even those he does not- he spent years protecting even Uther, though I suspect that was more on your behalf. He has done so always at great cost to himself. I have no reason to believe that would not continue. As a physician, I would think that yes, slowly working an injured muscle back to fighting form would be beneficial. As his guardian- I believe he needs time to regain his confidence, and his belief in himself, and in the Cause he has suffered for."

Gaius paused, gathering his thoughts, noting that Arthur was paying close attention to his words. Waiting for permission, he realized, to push Merlin when both of them wanted nothing more than to leave him heal on his own terms.

"You have to understand. In all his years, he's only ever really wanted one thing for himself. For you to know him, to accept him. Changing the laws would be of benefit to all magical kind, would bring a peace to the land and heal wounds created long ago. And not just by your father. I, too, committed a great many sins under the premise of duty, of doing what we believed was needed at the time. And now you know. And he is accepted. And nothing has changed between you. But he had to commit a terrible atrocity to bring it about, and now he fears being selfish. He fears to _want_ because of the price others may have to pay to achieve it. Will he protect us when needed- yes. Would he benefit from continuing to learn, unhindered- I believe so. I believe he acts, and sometimes kills, out of instinct. Not unlike your reactions in an ambush. How many die before you have a chance to really note who is attacking you? Perhaps learning would allow him to have an alternative, to be proactive instead of reactive."

Arthur nodded. There it was then. "Can you teach him?" Arthur asked. "The laws allow you to practice openly as well."

Gaius laughed. "I have taught him all I can, Arthur, and precious little of that to do with magic. He is more powerful than any sorcerer I've ever known. I don't believe there are many who can even comprehend where his power comes from, let alone teach him to wield it. Books, may help. Memorizing spells, learning what options there are. But... no. I cannot think of a way to 'train' him, as you're suggesting."

"Thank you Gaius." The King turned to leave, but Gaius stopped him.

"I do know, Arthur, that his powers are closely tied to his emotions. The more desperate he is, the stronger they are. Be careful in what you undertake, and do not think that because he has managed to remain hidden that he has full control. None of us have _begun_ to see the resources he is capable of drawing on- not even he. It is possible someone may get hurt with what you're about to do."

Arthur nodded gravely. "I understand."

**_MERLIN10101010101010101MERLIN_ **

Leon watched as the servant moved through the market, sure of his place, content for the first time in a long time. Merlin stopped to speak with many people, laughing, smiling, or offering a consoling hug where needed. The People knew him. None seemed to care about his magical abilities. The change in clothing- he wore the new outfits the King continued to have made for him more often than not these days- drew the odd double take, but if anything, they teased him as they would a little brother, delighting in his blushes.

A little brother. He had once told Arthur that Merlin was such to many of the Knights. He held that true, even now, with his King standing next to him, also observing the boy. He had come to Leon for advice. The Knight felt he had to agree with the Queen Regent. While Merlin deserved this peace, it would be important in the days to come that he become the warrior he had always, until now, been only in times of need.

"I can see it written on your face, Leon," Arthur sighed. "I'll confess, there is a part of me that had hoped you would talk me out of it."

"What you're proposing, my Lord, is dangerous. To you, and to him. But so is any young squire with a sword in his hands for the first time. It is not his first time wielding the sword, but he must learn to wield it with intent," Leon answered. "I asked you once to give the people time. You did so. And look at them. He is simply Merlin. Of those still lacking acceptance, nothing that he- or you- does will change that stance. Whatever danger this path offers, it is already present."

"And so we'll hurry his descent into the madness of blood and fire," Arthur growled. Then he sighed in resignation, and nodded. "So be it. You'll see about setting up an appropriate space?"

Leon bowed and left to make the arrangements immediately. Arthur allowed himself a quick smirk. Well, at the very least he had found a way to get Gwaine to the Training Ground on time!

**_MERLIN1010010101010MERLIN_ **

Merlin followed behind his King obediently, as he always did, barely paying attention to where he was going. Given that he was hauling Arthur's shield and lance, he guessed the training yard. It was a nice day for it, at least. A nice breeze to keep them cool, but dry and sunny.

He was surprised, however, when Gwen joined them at the corner of the hallway. And pleased. She was often busy and they didn't get to see each other much lately. She dropped a quick curtsy to Arthur since they were in a public location, and greeted Merlin with a kiss on his cheek, making the younger man smile.

"I want a moment with Merlin. We'll meet you there," Gwen requested of Arthur. Without hesitation, Arthur grabbed the lance and shield from his servant, ignoring the boy's protests, and went ahead without a word.

Merlin frowned, unaccustomed to the tone she had used with Arthur. "Gwen..."

"I needed you to know, Merlin, that you can always come to me," she started without preamble. "No matter what." She linked her elbow with his, leading him as they spoke.

He hesitated, but nodded slowly, smiling. "I know that, Gwen."

"Do you?" she asked. "I know there are some things that you cannot take to Arthur. As Queen Regent, there are some things that are well within my power to deal with, without needing his attention."

"What's this about?" Merlin demanded, coming to a stop.

"You forget the connections I have in this castle, Merlin. Very little happens that I am not made aware of. Including when a servant is being abused," she stated, a hint of anger to her voice. "You should have come to me, if you felt you couldn't go to Arthur. Or do you not have faith in me?"

Merlin sighed, and started walking again. "I have supported Arthur in your raising since the first time he brought it up to me. I almost dread the day he actually marries, as I can't see anyone doing a better job than you."

"Then why, Merlin? Why not come to me?"

"I thought- I didn't think of it, actually. It's not a big deal, really," Merlin blushed.

"Merlin, you have to understand. Your position as the Kings Personal Manservant is enough by itself. Added to that your more recent duties... this is not appropriate behavior. If I hear of it happening again, I will have no choice but to go to the King with it," Gwen warned. The only reason she hadn't yet was because the details reported to her were a little vague. Shoves, muttered curses, name calling, and the like.

"It's not their fault, Gwen. They're scared, unsure. So much is changing so fast, and I'm at the middle of a lot of it. I don't blame them," Merlin rushed to explain. He hoped she would accept that. "And it's not gone beyond minor bullying. I've received worse from Arthur himself."

"I understand how you feel, and I won't push it- for now. But I suggest you find a way to end it quietly that does not end with you hiding bruises. If Arthur sees them... " she trailed off, and Merlin nodded. Arthur was fiercely protective by nature. There would be no stopping him from taking retribution.

He looked up, suddenly realizing they were heading into a courtyard on the opposite side of the castle that the Knights Training Grounds were in. Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, and Elyan were setting up jousting dummies around the courtyard, which was closed in with 4 very solid walls. There were stone benches all around it. It had once been a garden, he realized. Left to go to soil. The beds long empty, the ground he imagined had once been a lush green now a barren brown. Husks of what had once been ivy hung from the thick stone walls.

Gwen rubbed his arm. "Good luck."

She left then, knowing the men would prefer privacy for this. She had been hesitant to suggest the location when Arthur had first told her of his plans, but the King had agreed immediately, lighting up, a soft, fond, smile on his face.

Arthur frowned. Gwen's pace had a trace of irritation in it, like she was frustrated. Merlin looked slightly flustered himself. He wondered what they had discussed, but wouldn't ask. Gwen wouldn't have asked him to leave them if she wanted him to know. This was something between the two of them, obviously.

Merlin walked into the courtyard, frowning. "Where is this? I've never been here before."

Arthur looked around, and spread his arms. "This was my Mother's Garden. A space my Father created just for her. I'm told it was beautiful, in its day. When she died, my father locked it up. I used to sneak in here as a child," Arthur confessed. "I used to wonder if I could feel closer to her here."

"And did you?" Merlin asked gently.

Arthur shook his head. "It was just a space. Knowing it was hers didn't create the connection I thought it would. I'd been told how much she loved it, how often she'd sit out here when she was pregnant for me. I'm glad now, to find a use for the space. I think she would approve."

Merlin glanced around. "You're moving the Knight's Training? Seems a little closed in for that?"

"No, Merlin. This is officially now _your_ Training Grounds," Arthur grinned, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "This garden was built to be the safest in the castle. Those walls could withstand catapult blasts... surely they can handle a few fireballs from you."

Merlin immediately retreated, moving to step off what he considered hallowed ground, but not getting far as Arthur held his arm firmly. "No, Arthur."

"Yes, Merlin. All my Knight's Train for battle daily. You've gotten away with it until now because of laws that no longer exist. Time for you to stop lollygagging about and take your responsibilities seriously."

"Lollygagging?" Merlin spluttered, thinking about the armor he had polished this morning, not to mention the newly cleaned stables, and fresh wax coat on the King's furniture... then everything the King was saying sunk in. "Training?"

"That's right," Arthur agreed, turning serious. "Merlin, whether I happen to like it or not, you are as much a Knight of Camelot as the rest of us. Your weapon is simply different, your battlefield one none of us can really join you on. I would never send a Knight on a dangerous mission alone, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to send you more often than not. It will make me feel better to know that I've helped prepare you as much as possible."

"I have protected Camelot just fine until now," Merlin grumbled.

"You have. And under terrible circumstances, against tremendous odds." Arthur swallowed and looked away. "Alone. For years. I can't say as I was ever happy with it, but it was how it had to be done." He looked back to his friend, determined. "It doesn't have to be that way anymore, and I no longer need to stand by helplessly while you risk your life, untrained, for a Kingdom that could never say thank you."

Merlin shook his head. "But here? Arthur, your mother-"

"As soon as Gwen suggested this place, I knew it was perfect. It felt... right. My mother loved this Kingdom. I think she would be pleased to see this space used for its protection, rather than be locked away and forgotten. My old nurse used to tell me stories of how she hated wastefulness."

He looked so convinced- and a little sad. Merlin drew a deep breath, hesitated, then knelt down, putting his hands forward onto the ground. "Then I give her back this land that was hers," he whispered, his eyes glowing gold as he reached for his magic, then redirected it into the ground. For as much as he had simply commanded 'destroy', he now simply commanded, 'grow', picturing the garden lush and vibrant with color. 'Live', he commanded the seeds long dormant in the soil. He closed his eyes and helped filter out the toxins in the ground that had caused this destruction.

Arthur watched, his breath catching, as the brown and barren space was brought back to life. He watched as the husks grew leaves, grasses and flowers springing from the ground. The dullness of the soil being washed away and replaced by a healthy earthy scent and color. Small fountains in the space began to first flow brown water, then clear. Weeds shriveled to be replaced by healthy plants.

He saw the others gap. It was one thing to witness the awesome power of destruction. Magic had long been associated with that. It was quite another to watch it create. His heart squeezed for the gift Merlin was returning not only in honor of his mother, but to him as well. In the days to come, birds would return to this Garden. It would be teaming with life again.

For the first time, Arthur felt like he could feel his mother here. He could almost picture her sitting on the bench, reading quietly, stroking the growing infant inside of her. He imagined her watching on as gardeners went about their duties, gently coaxing the landscape to grow and glow just for her.

Leon, who had played in the Garden when he was very young, also looked touched. "It's almost the same," he whispered.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed. "Thank you."

Merlin nodded, taking in a shuddering breath, sitting back on his heels, his eyes still closed as he struggled to control the flow within him. After being cooped up for so long, his magic wanted to keep going. It _liked_ what he had done. He had kept it so tightly restrained for such a long time. Let loose like this, allowed to encourage its elements to be their best, it pulsed through him, strong and powerful, like a current.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked in concern, kneeling in front of his friend. Had this been a mistake?

Merlin smiled, opening his eyes. "I'm all right. More than all right. It feels good." He paused, inhaling the now fresh scent of the garden around him. Tears came to his eyes. "Thank you, Arthur. I didn't even know how much I _needed_ to do that. To create instead of destroy."

Arthur hesitated. "Merlin, the training..."

"Is necessary," Merlin interrupted firmly, no longer afraid. "You're right. You, and the Knights, practice daily. You hone and sharpen skills. Your swords are an extension of your own arms. I... I did this, Arthur, but I don't know how," he waved at the new growth. "I need to know _how_."

Arthur nodded, standing. He appreciated that others had waited patiently back. They were not blind to the struggles the young man had been facing. They, too, had struggled under the name of duty, having not been born to it as the other, noble blood, Knights had been.

Elyan stepped forward. "Right. Well, first we're going to teach you the basics of a blade. Arthur says you've enchanted weapons before?"

Merlin flicked his eyes to the King, wondering. He and Arthur had discussed much of his past use of magic, but he was sure he had never told him that. He nodded, and took the blade from the Knight. He had learned much of using a sword over the years, compared to when he had first arrived. He was a little further ahead than just randomly swinging it and hoping it would connect, but not much.

And so it began.


	18. Chapter 18

"Why not?" Gwen demanded, following her King around the room. For weeks he had put her off. She refused to allow it any longer. "He _is_ entitled to it, and for you to deny it to him simply because you do not want another servant is ridiculous!"

Arthur sighed, understanding he wasn't going to get away from this discussion this time. Gwen had evidently set her mind to have it settled and now. He briefly considered pulling rank, of reminding her she was not truly his equal, but that would undo all the work they had done together to make this work. Not that rank had ever stopped her from sharing her mind before. He needed that honesty. He didn't, however, always have to like it.

"I don't think the people are ready..." he started, but she cut him off, full of righteous anger.

"No! I don't buy that. Not this time. The people don't care, Arthur. It’s you, and your pride, that cares. If you will not give him the proper entitlement then I demand on his behalf that you let him go. Let him move on. He deserves to be loved, to be cherished. To be happy. It’s not fair for you to keep playing this game with him."

"I _do_ love him," Arthur roared at her. Then he followed more softly, "By the gods, Gwen, he deserves all that and more. It's nothing to do with my pride. I have admitted to myself that I care for him- man, servant, and sorcerer be damned. The Knights, and you, Queen Regent, have welcomed him as a Consort, privately and unofficially publicly. I could ask for nothing more."

"Then why?" she asked gently. "Why not acknowledge him? Camelot knows. You gain nothing by hiding it. If anything it confuses the people. Is he a servant or is he not? Everyone knows he trains daily- there was no lying about the blasts coming from the Garden and is therefore sort of a Knight. Everyone knows he is unofficially the Court Sorcerer, or, Warlock, I guess. Everyone knows he's your lover-"

"He's not, actually," Arthur coughed, stopping Gwen's tirade in its tracks.

Gwen felt her mouth hanging open, and shut it again. She shook her head, tilting it sideways, as she often did when she was genuinely confused. "Come again?"

Arthur blushed, then cleared his throat. "He's not my lover."

Gwen hesitated. Had something happened between them? She didn't think so. They had argued often in the past, and none of their behavior spoke of the cold shoulders they would often give each other during such times. This battle she had brought to the King on her friends' behalf- unknown to said friend- as well as truly believing it was best for Arthur himself. Surely one of them would have told her if it had been broken off?

Arthur sensed her hesitation, and sighed. "We haven't- nothing more than kissing."

Gwen's mouth moved into an 'Oh'. Perhaps the fact that they were both men prevented that _particular_ aspect of a normal relationship from developing. While Arthur had been famed for his ability to charm either man or woman in his youth, Merlin had never really shown an inclination either way. No. It couldn't be that. She'd been telling the truth- the whole Kingdom knew the King had a lover. He wouldn't have allowed that knowledge to get out if it had been some casual experiment. And Arthur never did anything in half measures.

"Is it... do you not find him attractive?" she asked carefully. It was possible, she knew, to love with your whole heart, but not your body. Many of the Knights were such brothers to Arthur- and to her. She found it difficult to believe, however, that you could want to kiss and touch someone, but not the rest. Especially Merlin. He had always been handsome. His new clothes, which she had secretly replaced all his old clothes with once Arthur confessed he'd had them made, made him even more so. He had hidden much behind those rags.

Arthur blushed again, feeling awkward discussing this with her. Especially since he wasn't exactly sure if she was advocating as his friend, or Merlin's. Still. He had been the one to decide to love the warlock. Gwen had encouraged that relationship, had always been someone he could talk to. And it felt good, he admitted, to share it with her. He could trust no one else with the secrets he had entrusted to her.

"That's not the issue," he answered. At least, not for him. Most definitely not. He felt he spent a good deal of time hiding his lower body whenever the warlock was around. Then he shrugged, and gave up any pretense of modesty. He sat down heavily on his bed. "Gwen, I'm so confused. I _love_ him, and I want him in _every_ way. I want to give him the world. But he moves away from me, further every day it feels."

Gwen chewed her lip. "I hate to say this, Arthur, but you were not always so kind to him. It may take time for him to make the adjustment from dodging goblets to cuddling," she pointed out.

Arthur nodded. "That is a very valid point, and something I will pay attention to in the future. But there's more to it than even you know."

"So tell me."

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Arthur, I would hope you know by now you can tell me anything. That's what friends are. I came to you often enough when Lancelot and I were struggling through some problems." She had cried in his arms often enough- his and Merlin's both- when they had failed time and again to conceive.

"Then I have a story to tell you."

He then shared with her his memories of living the two separate timelines, shared the details he could remember, even the ones he couldn't bear to repeat. He shared how he felt about Merlin's death, how he had felt cheated when he'd taken a different path than either of those timelines presented only to still have to watch his friend die. He shared the various changes he'd made- including deciding not to marry her. He had told her before of his feelings around Merlin's death, but now offered context on them. He explained his frustration at learning there were limits to what he could achieve. He told her about the day the Dragon had Healed Merlin, and what the boy's fears had been. That he had somehow sensed the other timelines.

She listened, carefully. Hours later, when he was done and had settled back on the bed after his pacing, she took a deep breath. "That's a lot to carry around, Arthur. And for so long." It was scary, to think of a world without them in it. Even more so to think of one without the other- it was easy to imagine the hollow shells each had the potential to become without the other.

Arthur nodded. "This, what is started between us, did not exist in either timeline. For so long after accepting how I felt- I felt it was _right_. Like we'd finally gotten it this time. And I know I love him, Gwen, with every shred of my soul, heart, mind and body. But he... I don't know. There is a part of him that doubts, I know that. And it is natural to protect your deepest feelings in the beginning. I had years to see this coming- to deliberately aim for it. I made a conscious choice. This is so new to him. I understand that much. But this... this is something else." Arthur took a deep breath. "It's like... when I kiss him, if I need it, he'll respond without hesitation. If I merely want it, though, it's like he's there, then hesitates, then talks himself out of it halfway through. Then he pulls back and its business as usual. And he never reaches out for me."

A horrible thought occurred to her. "When you kiss him, what do you do with your hands?"

Arthur shrugged, then winked at her. "It's a shame to have such perfect skin and not have it touched."

She nodded. "I think I understand," she said. "I think you're right that there's more going on. And I can't say, right now. I swore to him I wouldn't. Not yet. But please know, it's not you, Arthur. At least, not entirely."

Arthur frowned, sitting up quickly. He remembered the discussion between them. "Gwen, if something's wrong, I need to know."

"I can't. I promised. But I will do everything I can to fix this, Arthur. Be patient with him."

"Thank you, for your ear, and your help," Arthur answered, resigned. She would not break her oath to Merlin. He had to believe that whatever it was, it was not endangering the young man.

Gwen held her head high. "And if I succeed? Will you entitle him?"

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Arthur asked, a little frustrated. She was like a dog with a bone.

"We have been close for many years, Arthur. Lancelot died some time ago. Do you not find me beautiful?" Gwen asked. "Have you never been tempted to bed me, especially knowing in those visions we were once married? Queen Regent or not, as a loyal subject of Camelot, I could- and likely would- not have refused you."

Arthur looked horrified. "Gwen, you _are_ beautiful, but beyond that small time where we were both confused, no, I have never been tempted. Not only would that have been completely disrespectful to you and dishonored the memory of a dear friend, that would have ruined your reputation... oh."

"You cannot marry him, obviously. But there are certain graces that come with the official Consort Title. I have spent enough time in Court serving Morgana to know that much. Everyone in Camelot knows- thinks, they know, anyway- about the two of you. And while for now they're giving him the benefit- if only because he's a man and there is recognition that it’s complicated- it won't take long to go from Consort to Whore. I will not see my friend placed in such a position. Already he faces challenges that the title may protect him from."

Arthur hesitated, letting his own secret insecurities show. "What if... what if it's because he doesn't feel the same? What if he's only giving in to me because of my position? Or some misguided sense of loyalty?"

Gwen smirked. "Has Merlin _ever_ obeyed you, simply because of your position? I seem to recall a story of a young boy calling you a royal ass the first time he found out who you were."

Arthur snorted. "Good point."

**_MERLIN1010101101010101MERLIN_ **

Gwen went to the Garden. She enjoyed being in it. It was beautiful, and the groundskeepers had marveled over the miracle of its appearance. There was one old Gardener who had come out of retirement, determined to restore it to how it had been when his Queen had frequented it.

She knew, too, she'd find Merlin here. He preferred to train alone, always fearing he'd hurt someone. He could, after all, produce his own moving targets. The jousting dummies frequently moved to battle him. These past weeks since the space had been created, he'd spent much of his time here, often wearing himself to a state of exhaustion that had Arthur frantic with worry.

He was there again today, as she'd expected. Once started, he seemed determined to learn his craft. Gwaine and Leon often spent time with him well, with weapons training. Today, it looked like he was struggling to make a particular spell work, without much success.

"Is it giving you a hard time?" Gwen called from a distance, giving him a chance to stop before she walked into the zone around him.

He dropped his hand quickly, turning and offering her a beaming smile. "Actually, no. It's working."

She walked closer, looking at the dummy he'd been aiming his hand at. "I don't see anything happening."

Merlin grinned, setting the book down and motioning her to come closer to him, handing her a knife. "It's a protection spell," he grinned. "I've been working on for it days. It's not perfect, not yet, but I think it works. Here, try to cut the dummy."

She hesitated. He seemed so excited, so enthusiastic, that she pushed down the nagging feeling inside her. To be safe, she reached out, making a small cut on the straw shoulder of the dummy. She frowned. The knife was more than sharp enough to have cut through the straw, but there wasn't a mark on it.

"Is it... is it like the shield you used?" she asked, using a finger to poke at the dummy, expecting to feel some kind of resistance.

Merlin cocked his head, considering. "Um, not exactly."

Gwen frowned further, remembering suddenly the cut that had appeared on Merlin's cheek. "Merlin, let me see your shoulder," she growled, whirling around.

"What? Gwen, it's cold out..."

"Now, Merlin!" she ordered, grabbing him and yanking down his shirt. Sure enough, there was a small, shallow red cut. Close to the same size of the one she'd made on the dummy.

"Like I said, it's not perfect," Merlin defended. "But in a pinch, it will protect Arthur."

"By passing it on to you! Merlin you're a fool if you think Arthur would accept this. And to make me an accomplice? Did you know this would hurt you?" Gwen demanded, then didn't give him a chance to answer before continuing in her rage. "As if you don't have enough of these, you feel you have to add them yourself?"

"You didn't know, Gwen. And honestly, I thought I _had_ worked out that little bug. You'll notice the cut on me isn't nearly as deep as the one you tried to inflict. So, I'm getting there. I am sorry, Gwen," Merlin answered abashed and ashamed. He felt like he had tricked her, though he was being truthful. "It's just a scratch. Arthur's given me worse throwing goblets."

"Well that doesn't make it right, does it?" She was frustrated with him, but could see what he was trying to do. This, after all, was why they had insisted on his 'training', so he could learn control. "Do you honestly think Arthur would allow you to trade your life for his? That he could live with himself, knowing you'd done this?"

"In the end, as long as Arthur lives, does it matter?" Merlin asked, turning away. "He is King, and needed here in Camelot. As long as he continues to take chances, I will continue to be there to protect him, however I can."

Gwen softened, leading the servant to the stone bench, sitting beside him. "Merlin, you did protect him, and died for it. He was beyond devastated. I cannot begin to understand your connection to each other, but if I know nothing else in this world, it’s that neither one can live without the other. Not truly. Surely, you know how much he loves you."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "I know my role in his destiny, Gwen. If I am to give my life for his, then I will do so, gladly. His approval- or disapproval- will never change that."

"A fine pair the two of you make, both pig headed and foolish," Gwen sniffed is disdain. "Each willing to give up your lives for the other, but not willing to _live_ them for each other." Merlin frowned at her in confusion, and she shook her head. "Don't look at me like that, Merlin. You understood me. If he values you, he needs to take fewer chances, and if you value him, you need to consider exchanging your life as a last, extreme resort. It frightens us all, Merlin, that it often seems to be your first."

"I don't want to die, Gwen. I'm just prepared to if I have to. Always have been."

She nodded, and they sat in companionable silence for a time. It was Merlin who finally broke it.

"I regret having caused him that pain. And I regret the loss of life it cost. But I can't bring myself to regret doing it. I remember more than I told him. I remember being ready to die. Ready to finally stop. I was so tired, Gwen," Merlin confessed quietly. "Tired of hiding, of fighting, of wanting..." he trailed off.

"Do you still feel so tired, Merlin?" she asked gently.

"In many ways, yes. In other ways, no. When I'm here, with you, or with the Knights, and there's laughter and joy, I can feel happy to have come back. Other days, I feel I like I'm drowning in something I don't understand, can't feel, but somehow know without doubt that it will kill me, and I've forgotten how to swim."

"Oh Merlin," Gwen hugged him, tears in her eyes. "You have so much now, but I fear it came at too high a price for you to see it all clearly."

"I see everything, Gwen. I see everything I can lose. I couldn't bear it. Not again."

"I felt that way too," she confessed. "When Lancelot died, and you all supported me, kept me sane through my grief. I was never alone but I had never felt so lonely in my life. I had to hide it, though. To keep smiling, because everyone was trying so hard. When Arthur first spoke to me of this Queen Regent business, I confess, I needed something to pass the days. To keep busy. As those days passed, I healed, slowly. Then one day, the smiles were real. And I felt awful, and guilty. I still do, sometimes."

Merlin patted her hand. "Lancelot loved you beyond time itself, Gwen. He used to tell me that his favorite part was seeing you smile. He'd cross oceans just to see it every day. He wouldn't want you to ever stop smiling because of him."

"I know," she sniffled. "It gives me strength. And I know how fortunate I am to have known a love like that. It's rare, and precious, and offered only to a select few." She glanced at him. "Much like the love between you and Arthur." Merlin tried to stand, to move away, but she held him firmly. "Why do you run?"

"It's not that simple," Merlin answered shortly. He understood now how she'd felt about being tricked into hurting him. He felt she had expertly backed him into a corner he could not escape.

"Do you love him, Merlin?" Gwen asked gently, simply.

"Of course I do." Merlin took a deep breath. "More than life itself. But I will not be the one to stand in the way of his happiness."

Gwen frowned. "I'm not sure I understand. The entire Kingdom knows of his affections for you. _You_ are his happiness."

"Am I?" Merlin asked, pulling roughly away from her, standing and pacing. "Surely, Gwen, you can sense that there is something between you and he."

"Of course I love him. He is as dear to me as you are..."

"Not just friendship, Gwen. _Destiny_. Can't you feel it when you're in the same room together? I sense it, often, when I see you together. He is meant to be King, and you, you are meant to be Queen."

Gwen pursed her lips together. So, Arthur had been partially right. Merlin _could_ sense one of the other timelines, or at least, a part of it. She felt saddened in her heart to have caused him such uncertainty, however unintentional. "Merlin, I truly love Arthur, as every other loyal subject of Camelot does. Perhaps a little more, as a brother. And perhaps once, before Lancelot, there may have been potential for more. But not anymore. I could not see him that way. When I was married to Lancelot, it was easy to picture our futures together, growing old together. When we did not get to live that future, I can still not picture anyone else in my own."

"But someday... Arthur loves you, too."

"He does. We have developed not only a sincere fondness for each other, but also a deep respect. It is not the same. If I were to ever marry again, Merlin, it could be for no less than the passion I felt for my Lancelot. To do less would dishonor his memory, and everything I have to believe he would want for me. I don’t feel that way toward Arthur. Nor does he feel so toward me. He cannot. That kind of passion, it can only take in one at a time. The human heart is too frail to hold it for more. For Arthur, his heart is only for you. Has always been for you, Merlin, even if he didn't know it until it was almost too late. It saddens me greatly to think I have been a barrier to your happiness... and his, as they are one in the same."

Merlin shook his head. "You can't understand what I can sense."

"I can, actually," Gwen asserted, armed with the knowledge from Arthur. She spread her hands. "I am, after all, Queen. I believe Destiny played a part in that." Merlin opened his mouth to object, but she caught him with a stern look. "Do you deny it? Who are you, still learning your magic, to say that this is not how it was meant to be? Or shall I have the guards arrest you to prove my point?"

Merlin stared at her, then burst out laughing. Gwen couldn't hold her stern expression anymore and joined him. He sat beside her again, holding his chest to try and stifle the bout. "Oh. Thank you, Gwen," he gasped. "I needed that."

"You deserve the happiness he can give you. And I wish nothing but that for both of you," Gwen breathed, getting her own chuckles under control. "Sincerely, and with all my heart."

Merlin nodded, grateful, and Gwen wasn't fooled. Arthur had been right. There was much more going on here than either of them had considered. She was convinced every word Merlin had spoken was truth. He _had_ sensed destiny between her and Arthur, but that was a convenient catch all. A minor fear he could spit out to distract anyone persistent enough to ask. While she did not doubt Merlin sincerely loved Arthur, she knew enough to recognize terror when she saw it.

She was beginning to wonder if her promise to keep his secret wasn't costing all of them a great deal more than they thought.


	19. Chapter 19

**_AN: So... it starts getting a little dicey here. NonCon is obvious, though not graphic. Possible Triggers._ **

**_MERLIN10101010101010MERLIN_ **

"He's here!" Merlin shouted, running into Arthur's chambers at full tilt with the clean shirt. He stopped, stunned, to find Arthur eating an apple, unhurriedly, at his desk, bare chested. "Arthur? Did I forget to get your lunch?" Merlin asked, concerned. It had been an incredibly busy week, getting ready for Agravaine's arrival. He'd dropped his training completely, concentrating on running not only for Arthur, but for the other Knight's as well, making sure their armor was spotless and gleaming for their presentation. He'd also been helping the kitchens, and the castle Steward. Amazingly, Gaius seemed to be the only one who didn't need him for something.

Arthur took in the sight of his frazzled, and clearly tired, servant. He was back in his brown jacket, loose pants, and blue tunic with classic kerchief around his neck. Thankfully, he hadn’t found his old boots, though the new ones looked considerably at odds with the peasant style. Gwen would be furious, he thought. "No, Merlin. Just grabbing a snack."

"But... Sire... he's here... riding to gates as we speak," Merlin stammered. The King's Uncle was not someone who would receive being kept waiting well. Merlin had met him only once, early on in his service to Arthur, at a tournament. He hadn't liked him much then, but he was Arthur's family. He didn't have to like him to respect the Greeting traditions expected for one of such high rank.

"I am aware. Are you seriously going to wear that?" Arthur finished his apple, stood, and grabbed the shirt from Merlin, going over to his own closet. "Gwen will have both our hides, you know that?"

"Why would Gwen-" Merlin blushed. " _She's_ the one who stole my clothes?"

Arthur grinned at him, nodding. "I'm a brave man, Merlin, but not nearly brave enough to sneak into your room, get through Gaius, _and_ find someone willing to burn them who wouldn't immediately tell you. No, when it comes to running this castle, Merlin, Gwen has far more power than I." He didn't feel the need to mention _he_ was the one who had had the clothes made in the first place. Nor that Gwen had added to the collection since.

Arthur tossed him some clothes, black breeches and a clean white linen shirt with a black jacket. Arthur very much seemed to appreciate the color on him, Merlin thought. "Wear that." He was thankful he always kept some of the new clothes spare.

Merlin shook his head adamantly. "No. Lord Agravaine has a very strict sense of protocol. He'd have me flogged for showing up dressed like that."

"Merlin, I don't have time to argue with you. If you won't change because I asked, consider it an order from your King," Arthur growled, tugging his own shirt over his head. Merlin moved to finish dressing him, but Arthur shook his head, pointing at Merlin's new clothes. "I am far more worried about Gwen flogging _me_ if you show up like _that_. Change!"

Arthur was slightly disappointed when Merlin disappeared behind his changing screen with an angry growl. He _liked_ showing himself off to the younger man. Liked the way those eyes took in every curve of his body. He very much wanted to appreciate the view in return, but Merlin seemed very shy about his nudity in front of others. Arthur would take it personally, except he had always been so, always changing in the bushes while on Hunting trips or missions. He couldn't remember a single time when he'd seen Merlin even without a shirt, except when he'd been ill.

He finished dressing himself, deciding on his knee length brown over coat. He would keep his Uncle waiting for as long as he decided to. While he was armed with his likely allegiance from the visions- he remembered feeling _that_ particular betrayal keenly- he had changed enough that he was willing to be cautiously optimistic.

He turned when he heard Merlin step away from the screen, and again marveled in Gwen's good taste. The waist length black jacket with silver buckles worked around the shoulders and elbows looked incredible, gave Merlin's slight shoulders some distinction. The colors, of course, making those azure eyes and dark lashes shine against the fair skin.

"The jacket's a little long in the sleeve," Merlin noted, trying to fix them.

Arthur smiled. "No. It needs these." He turned, grabbing a box from on top of his wardrobe. He had paid the jeweler double to have them ready on time. Opening the box, he showed two wrist cuffs, silver and worked with gold to show an intricate design that looked as close to Kilgharrah as Arthur could manage to describe.

Merlin's eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "No, Arthur. I mean, they're beautiful... stunning, actually. The detail while maintaining masculinity..." he broke off. "But too fancy for the likes of me."

Arthur gently took Merlin's arm, tying the cuff on himself as it was meant to be worn. Over top of the jacket sleeve, the top puffing ever so slight above it. "A small gift, Merlin, that I sincerely hope you'll find it in your heart to accept." He would have laughed, at Merlin's confused expression. Like he wanted to express denial and gratitude all at once. He clearly wasn't accustomed to receiving gifts.

"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin finally settled on. "They're beautiful." Shyly, he leaned in as Arthur finished tying on the second cuff, kissing him quickly. Arthur's delighted smile and enthusiastic response rewarded his bravery. And, of course, he wasn't content with the fleeting touch Merlin had intended.

Arthur pulled back suddenly, breathing hard. "Merlin, if we don't leave now, we are going to be very, _very_ late," he whispered before he kissed Merlin again, like a drowning man finally getting air. This was the first time Merlin had come to him, and it stirred every part of him.

**_MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief as Gwen finally joined them. Agravaine hadn't yet made it to the square, thankfully. He had been surprised, given how long it had taken to convince Arthur to stop kissing him, that she wasn't already there. He smiled at her, leaned over to her ear, "You look beautiful," he whispered. He knew she was nervous about this visit too. She reached down and squeezed his hand.

"You're exceptionally handsome yourself, today. I was worried, for a moment, you'd found those awful rags you used to wear," she teased. Frowning, Merlin glanced to the rows of higher ranked servants. The Steward met his gaze evenly, and with a slight, quick, smirk. Ah. So _there_ was the betrayer.

Arthur chuckled, moving to stand directly in front of the two of them so that Merlin was on his left, Gwen on his right. Merlin tried to move back- this was a show of rank, after all, and he'd said his bit to Gwen. As Arthur's personal servant, he was supposed to be at Arthur's far left, very clearly off to the side. Arthur reached out and grabbed his hand, halting him. "Stay where you are, Merlin."

Merlin didn't have time to do more than squeak out a protest as Agravaine rode into the Square, his own small entourage of servants and guards behind him. It was too late, he realized. If he moved now, he'd only bring attention to himself. He clasped his hands in front of him, conscious of the disapproving glares he was getting from the Council Members behind him. A line a Knights stood behind them, with servants flanking on both sides as per their own stations.

Arthur moved forward as Agravaine dismounted. "Uncle!" he greeted warmly, giving the man a quick hug. "Camelot welcomes you!"

"It is good to see you, boy!" But his eyes were on the ranking behind the young King, widening in surprise. "Forgive me, I had not heard you were married! I would have brought a suitable gift," he apologized.

Arthur shook his head, turning them toward the crowd. "Uncle, may I present, The Lady Guinevere, Widow of Sir Lancelot Du Lac, Queen Regent of Camelot." Gwen curtsied to her him- a slight dip only since as Queen she outranked him.

Agravaine looked shocked as he understood it was not a married position. He kissed her hand as was required, however. His eyes went to a vaguely familiar looking boy.

"And this, Uncle, is Merlin, Court Sorcerer, Prince Consort, and Dragon Lord."

If Merlin looked absolutely pole-axed, it was nothing compared to Agravaine's expression. Arthur secretly delighted in both their reactions. He caught the eyes of his Knight's, twinkling with mirth and approval. The Council looked considerably less pleased, but as he had made the introduction in public, there was nothing they could do. Yet.

Agravaine nodded his head, while Merlin bowed from the waist a quarter- the appropriate angle for a lesser lord to a greater one. Arthur frowned at him, but he just glared back. The King was lucky he wasn't half bent over, as a proper servant should be!

"It seems, Arthur, that much has changed since I was last here," Agravaine mentioned lightly, though the King didn't miss the twist of his lips. Arthur nodded proudly, deciding to ignore it, clapping his Uncle on the back.

"It has. Come in, get settled. I'll tell you everything. We've announced a week of Celebrations to commemorate your arrival!"

**_MERLIN1010101010101010MERLIN_ **

"Is he _insane_?" Merlin ranted to Gwen, pacing her chambers. He had been forbidden from helping with any further preparations for yet another feast that evening- the fifth since Agravaine's arrival- and Arthur was busy with the Council, a meeting _he_ had been banned from so it wasn't hard to think of their topic. There had been a few since Arthur's very public announcement of Merlin's now formal titles. "No, not that one," he absently dismissed a dress Gwen was holding up. "Is he _trying_ to get me killed? Saying no to his Uncle like that?"

Gwen shook her head. "Merlin, I don't understand the problem. If anything, this should help things. The people like to know where everyone stands. You have been a vague area since your return. I think they will celebrate it. Agravaine's request that you serve him for the duration of his visit was out of line given your station. How about this one?"

"No, Gwen, look, where's the red one? You always look stunning in that one," Merlin changed his direction to go through her closet. "Or the new blue one? My magic being known is one thing. But the Prince Consort? What does that even _mean_? Ah! Here! _This_ one!"

Merlin pulled out a new dress, beautiful gold silk with dark green embroidered vines. He thought it would shape her nicely, and definitely make her stand out.

"All he's done is officially name you his lover, which everyone already knows anyway. It offers a great deal of protection, and an understanding to other nobles that is he not off the marriage market, but has made a love match. He worked hard to make this happen specifically for that presentation, Merlin, don't take it from him," Gwen urged, taking the dress from him.

"You knew about it?"

Gwen shrugged innocently, then sighed. "He wanted a grand gesture. You know Arthur. It wasn't in my heart to deny him. Those cuffs are beautiful, by the way. I am curious about the detail on the Dragon," she mentioned, running her fingertips over the gold work. Merlin had worn them every day since they suited his new wardrobe quite well. "He was very specific about it, which I thought strange since the Pendragon pennant is just the outline of one. I thought at first he was being cheeky about ownership, but I don't think that's really it."

Merlin toyed with the cuffs, smiling. "It's not. The dragon isn't meant to mark me as Pendragon property, it's meant to honor me as a Dragon Lord," he explained softly. He had been touched by the gift, as well as the symbol of acceptance the detailed dragon represented.

Gwen smiled. "He can be very tender when he wants to be, Merlin. He has a very generous heart, and when he's in love, he can't help it. He would give you the world if he could."

Merlin nodded. "I know. I just... I don't feel like I have much to give in return," he admitted. Gwen sat beside him, taking his hand in hers.

"He expects nothing, Merlin. And if you love him truly, then he has everything he wants."

"I do love him, Gwen," Merlin murmured. "With all my heart. I always have. But-"

"But?" she repeated.

"He shouldn't have spoken to Agravaine like that," Merlin insisted, his guilt obvious. "At least, not in the middle of the throne room. Not for my sake."

Gwen sniffed. "Then his Uncle shouldn't have made the request so public. Arthur had no choice. Lord Agravaine was testing his resolution in granting you the titles. Family or not, if Arthur had backed down, it would have been reduced to an empty, besotted gesture of infatuation." She eyed him sharply, sensing where his insistence on it all being a mistake might be coming from. "Are you still having problems like before?"

Merlin shook his head, fingering the cuffs again. "No, not like before," he answered quietly. Then gave himself a visible shake. "I should get going. Arthur wants his armor polished," he laughed. "Before tonight. So much for grand titles."

"Merlin-"

"Thank you, Gwen. And yes, definitely the gold silk. Every noblewoman at the feast will simply die of envy."

He was gone before she could press.

**_MERLIN10101001010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur paced his chambers impatiently. Merlin was over an hour late to his original summons, which despite all their teasing, wasn't like the younger man.

He'd debated this for days, but he couldn't let it continue. Gwen had come to him, as had the Knights, as had Gaius, all expressing concern for the sudden shift in Merlin over the course of the last month. The dark circles were back, his frame thinner by the day. He'd stopped smiling weeks ago, had withdrawn into himself. He spent most of his time in his Training Garden. There had been no more private moments between the two of them. In fact, Merlin had been adamant in avoiding him as much as was possible. When each had come to him, he'd been forced to admit he hadn't seen enough of his friend to really notice.

Gwaine had dared to barge into his chambers three nights ago, slightly drunk, accusing him of abusing the warlock. It had taken considerable convincing before the Knight believed he'd barely seen him. And the revelation of a few personal details he didn't think was anyone's business, but it had finally worked.

Once calmed down, Gwaine was quick to explain all he knew. Which was nothing other than Merlin was miserable, and actively avoiding Arthur, and therefore something Arthur had done had made him miserable. After he'd left, Arthur had positioned himself in front of his fireplace in his chambers with orders not to be disturbed. He had mastered using the Bond, especially when he had time to do it as a meditation technique, and so didn't like doing it unnecessarily. It felt like an invasion of Merlin's privacy. The warlock felt their bond in a different way, as an instinct whenever Arthur's need was great. Arthur had mastered accessing it deliberately and with intent.

What he had found was darkness. Misery. Pain. Shame. Nothing to explain the cause, it didn't work like that. He got a general sense of where Merlin was in the castle, and a deep, driving need to _protect_. When Arthur had tried to ask, Merlin had claimed needing to run an urgent errand for Gaius, and disappeared.

There was a knock at the door, and Arthur turned to meet it. "Come in," he ordered, pleased to see Merlin. "I hope you brought something good to eat," Arthur continued lightly, so as not to give away the real reason for his summons. A meal request was not unusual. Despite the much lighter duties, there were still some things Arthur would take from no one's hand but Merlin's.

"Cook outdid herself, Arthur," Merlin answered, throwing the King a quick smile as he moved to set the large tray down. Of course she had, Arthur thought, he had made it clear Merlin would be eating with him. There were, apparently, many in the palace who had noticed the odd change in behavior.

Arthur stood very close to the younger man's back, nuzzling the back of his neck, enjoying a scent he had desperately missed. "I feel like I haven't held you since my Uncle arrived," he murmured softly. He went to put his arms around Merlin's waist, but the boy could move quickly when he wanted to, turning out of his reach to move to grab him a plate from the other side of the table.

"I have to hurry, Arthur. Gaius needs me to-"

"Merlin," Arthur spoke sharply. "Gaius was here not two hours gone, saying you had the evening to yourself."

Merlin hesitated, then shot his King a quick grin. "Well, that's nice to know. Suppose I'll go get myself something to eat then. Enjoy your meal, Sire."

"Or, you could eat with me. There's clearly enough," Arthur invited casually. "We can catch up. Take in the latest castle gossip. And _you_ can tell me why you've been lying to me, which is clear since Gaius came to ask me why I bothered giving you the titles if I kept you too busy to even help him anymore," he added pointedly. "You may want to include those lies to him in your explanation as well. And those to Gwen, Gwaine, Leon, Percival- honestly, Merlin, is there _anyone_ in this castle you _haven't_ lied to recently?"

Merlin's look of panic broke his heart, but he refused to allow for any chance the boy could talk his way out of this room. He could clearly see, now that he was looking, what the others had been talking about. The physical evidence of all he had sensed from a distance. And there were the lies. Not just to him, but to everyone. He felt so disappointed in the warlock, especially once the stories started to come together when he'd made inquiries. He couldn't help but wonder if the staff had had time to talk to each other a little more often, this would have come to light much sooner. He _was_ going to get to the bottom of what exactly 'this' was!

"Sire, I-" Merlin clamped his mouth shut, having nothing to defend himself with. Arthur was ready for him when he moved swiftly toward the door, not quite running but close enough. The King expertly grabbed the thin arm, spun him, and had a shaking Merlin now facing him, trapped by Arthur's strong hand around a thin wrist, their faces inches from each other.

"Since when do you run from _me_?" Arthur asked quietly, hurt beyond words. Merlin's little grunts of frustration as he tried to break free hardened the steel in his voice. A part of him wanted nothing more than to wrap Merlin in his arms and whisk him away from whatever it was that had scared him enough to run from the one person he _should_ know he never had to run from. He focused on his anger, forced himself to look beyond the panic rolling off the younger man in waves. Focused on that voice inside his head that screamed if he let Merlin go now, he'd lose him forever. Forced himself to be warrior, Knight and King, pushing the man, the lover, the friend inside him aside. This, he somehow knew, was a battle, and one he had to win.

"Arthur-" Merlin pleaded, shaking his head, tears in his eyes. "Please don't." He struggled to break free, squirming to make Arthur loosen his hold enough to let him slip away. They were too close for him to use his magic- a fact he suspected Arthur knew. The firm, strong hold on him had been carefully worked to prevent exactly that. A part of him knew this battle was lost, knew there was no way out, but fear of the consequences of that being true gave him a renewed strength. He shoved Arthur as hard as he could, but the trained Knight had never been flawed in his footwork. He didn't so much as bother to _pretend_ he needed to adjust his stance or grip. A fly caught tight in honey.

"Tell me?" Arthur commanded firmly. He wrapped his free arm around the narrow waist, clamping tightly, and used his other hand to cup Merlin's cheek. "I know something's wrong. Is it me? Have _I_ done something?"

Merlin shook his head immediately. "No, Arthur! I just... I can't..." He tried to twist away, but Arthur's grip on his waist was firm. In his best condition, he'd never been a match for the King, physically. "Please," he begged, tears flowing freely. For a moment, Arthur was tempted to relent. The absolute terror in Merlin's voice was palpable, and cut him to the core. It took him a moment to regain his resolve.

Arthur lifted his chin, so he could watch the warlock's eyes. "If it's not me, then who?"

"Arthur-" Merlin begged, again.

"Do you understand that it hurts me to see you like this?" Arthur asked sincerely, offering one last chance at a different tactic.

"I'm fine."

"You're not," Arthur insisted. "And the only one you're fooling is yourself."

Arthur pulled the boy to him, desperate to ease the pain and terror so clearly visible, frustrated with not knowing the source. "I wish you would trust me," Arthur pleaded. "Whatever it is, I can help."

"You _can't!_ " Merlin shouted at him, using a hand to pound at the solid wall of muscle that was Arthur's chest in an attempt to dislodge him. As soon as the words left his mouth, he stopped struggling, shocked. In his desperation, he had given Arthur all the confirmation he'd needed. The King would never stop now. There had been grim determination in Arthur's blue eyes before, now they were cold, mirror shinned, iron- slick surfaces reflecting pain, but an unbreakable core of resolution underneath.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered sorrowfully. "I am the King. I have endless resources at my disposal. There is nothing, and hear this, _nothing_ , I cannot put a stop to."

"At what cost?" Merlin growled. He had one last weapon in his arsenal. He started to struggle again. Arthur couldn't hold him _and_ his temper both. He aimed his words harshly, and deliberately. "What other misery am I to be responsible for? Who's life will you lay on my shoulders next? For what? For _love_? Because _now_ you care? After _years_ of mistreatment, insults, and abuse, _now_ you've decided it's all right to be a decent human being and expect me to fall into your arms?" he hissed, struggling. "You call _this_ love? This is you being the brute you have always been. Pretty words are all you have, and they'll stop _nothing_."

Stunned at the venom in Merlin's voice, Arthur temporarily loosened his grip. Not from anger. From shock. It wasn't until he felt the man slip from his grasp that he recognized what Merlin had done- remembered flinging equally harsh words designed to anger the warlock, to make _him_ lose control. Without thinking, he reached to grab his love again, wrapping a fast and powerful arm around his middle, lifting effortlessly, and pulling him until Merlin's back hit his chest, hard.

Merlin cried out in agony, instantly trying to arch his back away. Understanding began to redden the King's face. He spun the boy swiftly, forcing the smaller chest to meet his. Arthur didn't hesitate, keeping his hold tight as he used his other hand to pull down the collar of Merlin's shirt. What he saw made his heart stop and his blood catch fire. The change in Merlin was instant. He abandoned his desperate defiance, accepting now that it was over. Harsh breathing turned to gasps, and then to soul torn sobs.

"Sorry, I'm sorry..." Merlin was sobbing over and over again.

Whip marks could be easily seen across the boys' shoulders, deep and bleeding now after his struggles. "My god, Merlin," Arthur gasped. He felt the warlock sag against him. There was nothing to hide anymore. All the fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving only trembling muscles exhausted from fighting against a much stronger opponent. And misery, guilt, and shame.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, so sorry."

"Who did this, Merlin?" Arthur demanded, pulling further at the collar. The marks went all the way down, as well as across the pale skin of Merlin's back. Some deeper than others, but one thing was painfully obvious- they had not all happened at once. "Merlin! _Who_ did this?" he repeated, his voice was ice, and fire, and a promise of the world of brutality Merlin had- apparently no so wrongly- accused him of, for the guilty party.

Arthur realized then that Merlin was still whispering apologies. There were no further attempts at struggling. He loosened his hold, forced himself to gentle his touch, remembering he might be hurting him. Merlin was terrified, and Arthur understood _he_ was now a part of the cause. He took a deep breath, wrestling with his temper to bring it under control. He would get no answers from the warlock as long as he continued to terrorize him.

"Merlin," he said gently, cupping his hand to the back of the raven head, carding his fingers through the black hair he could never seem to stop touching. "Merlin, I'm not angry with you. And I'm sorry I was so rough with you." He kissed the temple he could reach, before gently moving so he could look his lover in the eye. "But I need to know who you're protecting. And why you're protecting them."

Merlin shook his head weakly. "I can't... I can't..."

Arthur felt panic rip through him when Merlin collapsed without warning and scooped him up instantly. "Guards!" he shouted, moving the unconscious younger man to his bed and gently laying him face down on it. His door burst open as he searched for a knife. "Get Gaius here _now_!" he ordered.

The guard took off, and Arthur used his belt knife to cut away the now blood spotted shirt. The shirt had somehow managed to hide a great deal of the damage. The marks were deepest where they crisscrossed, some old enough to have already begun showing signs of infection.

Sir Leon came racing through the door just then. "Sire, I saw the Guards running, are you... by all the gods," he gasped, seeing Merlin.

Arthur looked up. "Do you know who did this?"

Leon shook his head. "No, Sire. I knew he was- off- but I didn't know..." he looked genuinely regretful that he hadn't looked closer before now. "You need some hot water," he moved to prepare a kettle, assuming now that the guard had been running for Gaius.

Arthur turned back to his patient, but until he had some water to clean with, there wasn't much he could do. Many of the marks would need stitching. It hadn't been a particularly skilled hand which had delivered the lashes. There were as many around his sides as there were on his back. No control of the whip, then, Arthur surmised. He saw the bruises around the lash marks. At the small of Merlin's back was a bruised half imprint of a boot. Enough to tell it was fine quality, but not enough to tell who it belonged to.

"Who could have done this... to _him_?" Leon muttered. Arthur looked at him, frowning, and the Knight continued hurriedly. "He's hardly defenseless, Arthur. This took more than once. This was either someone he trusted, or someone with enough power to threaten something he held dear." Arthur froze. ' _Who are you protecting?'_ And then he knew. It hadn't been his attackers Merlin was protecting. He'd been a fool.

"Leon, please go find Gwen. I want her in her Chambers with double guards. Don't tell her why, just that something's happened and we need to increase security in the castle," he ordered briskly. Aside from himself, and Gaius- who he'd already called for- he could think of no one else that Merlin would have let this happen for.

Leon nodded and left, shouting for more Guards to follow him. The kettle over the fire began to whistle and Arthur went to dump the water into a bowl. Gaius arrived just as he was finished. The Physician, despite his age, didn't miss much.

"Merlin!" he cried, immediately going to his ward." What happened?" He took a moment to look up at his King, his eyes sweeping over him, looking to see if he'd sustained any injury in what looked like an attack.

"I'm all right, Gaius," Arthur reassured. He was in shock, he'd admit. Had been since he'd first made the discovery. As furious as he was, he was also starting to feel numb. There was no enemy at the gates. Someone _within_ Camelot had done this. More than once- and gotten away with it. Since he'd made Merlin's status official a month ago, it was someone who felt brave enough to think himself safe from the King's wrath.

He helped Gaius clean and stitch, thankful Merlin remained unconscious through it. He was worried about it, inquired and confessed his earlier rough treatment of the boy, but Gaius shook his head. "It's probably the trauma keeping him out, Sire, and be thankful for it. These have likely pained him for some time. And he's been exhausted for weeks."

They worked silently together for another hour. A guard came in only long enough to report that Leon himself was guarding Gwen, and that she was confused, but unharmed.

At last Gaius sat back, shaking his head. "We need to gently roll him over, Arthur. I want to do a full examination."

As soon as Merlin was on his back, Arthur wanted to be sick. His chest was a mosaic of old and new bruising, several cuts that were obviously done with a knife. Gaius seemed to age in front of him. "Oh my dear boy," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" Then the Guardian shook himself and was the Physician once more. "Arthur, strip him as gently as you can. Use a knife, but don't pull on anything."

Arthur worked quietly, shaking with rage. Easing the knife to cut loose fabric in small bits at a time, going around anything dried on. Suddenly he fell backwards in shock, and had to go scrambling for a bucket to retch in. He opened his mouth to call to Gaius, but the old Physician had already seen.

There was blood, and essence of man, dried and crusted, on Merlin's thighs. He had been assaulted- and recently.

"Sire, I have to ask..."

Arthur shook his head, gasping for a breath he couldn't seem to catch. "We've never- I would never- that wasn't me." He couldn't stop staring. Recently. Likely tonight. And _he_ had manhandled Merlin like he'd been a ragdoll. He _was_ a brute. Words thrown at him designed- rather effectively- to distract and anger him. Now, Arthur couldn't help but recognize the truth in them. Unlike Arthur, Merlin didn't have it in him to dredge up outright lies. Years of frustrations, of ignoring and shoving it down deep inside, had built the weapon Merlin had thrown at him tonight.

"Sire, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Gaius said firmly. Arthur looked up at him incredulously, realized his eyes felt dry and he hadn't even been able to blink away from the horror in front of him.

"I won't leave him."

"You must, Sire. You're having a violent reaction to this and I can't be focused in two places at once. As long as you're here, my priority must be you, and Merlin can't afford that. I can either move him to my chambers, or you will have to temporarily leave yours."

Arthur stood up immediately. "I'll leave. He's _not_ to leave this room until we know who did this. Don't go anywhere without a guard to escort you."

He stumbled out the door, closing it behind him, paying no heed to the guards on either side of him. He let out a roar of agony and frustration, sliding down the wood of his door until he was sitting on his heels, his fists squeezed tight and pressed into his eyes. He didn't care who heard or saw him. His soul was on fire with grief and anger. Two questions kept circling his mind, driving him mad. _Who_? _How_ had they managed to overpower the most powerful warlock ever to exist?

**_MERLIN10101010010101010MERLIN_ **

Gwen looked up as Gaius entered her chamber. She had been stroking Arthur's forehead, easing the restless sleep he had fallen into after sobbing in her arms. He'd told her everything. He blamed himself, of course, for not noticing sooner. For not protecting Merlin. For being so rough with him, so awful to him. She'd had no choice but to tell him about the abuse Merlin had been suffering from some of the Knights. She hadn't known details. He'd been furious with her for keeping it from him, of course. But she'd stood firm in her promise to Merlin. That he was dealing with it, and his reassurance that it wasn't any more than a little bullying. She'd thought Merlin had implied it had stopped on the fifth night of the Welcome Celebrations. Only in hindsight could she ascertain that it had clearly spoken of an escalation.

"How is he, Gaius?" she whispered.

"My Lady, I'm afraid I need to wake the King," he replied apologetically.

"I'm awake, Gaius," Arthur murmured, rolling over. He'd heard the man enter. "How is he?"

"He was whipped- as you know- I would accurately guess about three times. All in the past week, though there is some evidence of welting prior to that. The wounds on his chest, legs, and arms- those have been consistently applied for at least two weeks- likely closer to three. He has... he had been assaulted, often and cruelly. Likely as long as the beatings have been occurring, Sire. It is difficult to determine the exact timeline with injuries of that kind."

"Will he..." Arthur hesitated, trying to get the image out of his mind. Gwen had tears in her own eyes. "Will he survive?"

"With diligent care and time, I believe so. Physically. We caught the infection in time. The nature of the injuries seem to be directed at torture, not to take his life. This was designed to be prolonged. Mentally- it is impossible to accurately gauge how long it will take him to recover. Most who experience repeated occurrences of trauma of this nature never fully do."

"Is he awake?" Arthur asked quietly, sitting up. His hand had automatically taken a hold of Gwen's as Gaius gave his report, and he ignored how hard she was gripping his own. The blacksmith's daughter did not lack for strength.

"Not yet. But you may return to your chambers. It's perhaps best that he not wake alone. And Arthur, you have to understand that what he's been through is horrific. Do not press him. I know you want answers, but you're not likely to get them any time soon. He's not ready," Gaius warned sternly. He sighed. "He may never be."

Gaius held his eyes, and Arthur nodded solemnly. "I understand, Gaius. I swear, I won't ask." Gaius hesitated, making Arthur frown. "What is it, Gaius?"

"I have a personal question to ask you, Sire. Very personal." He glanced at the Queen Regent beside him, who immediately began to stand, understanding the dismissal. Arthur shook his head at her, staying her.

"I keep nothing from Gwen. She'll be needed to help him through this too. He'll need all of us."

"Of course. Arthur, if, as you say, the two of you have not been- active- together, then this experience was likely his first association with sex. I need to know if you intend to blame him, or end your relationship because of it. It would not be healthy for him to remain in your proximity if that is the case."

Arthur sighed. He had asked himself those same questions earlier. And as the answer had jumped immediately into his own mind and heart, he repeated it now.

"My feelings for him have not changed, Gaius, and I will _not_ abandon him."

**_MERLIN101001010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur took a deep breath as he leaned his forehead against the familiar wood of his door. Leon remained station outside of Gwen's chambers, had created a shift schedule so that at least one Knight from the inner circle was at his door, hers, and with Gaius at all times.

He turned around, and saw the untouched meal Merlin had brought. A part of him wished he'd forced the boy to eat it before getting into it, but the lie had been obvious, and the opening he'd likely not get again. He couldn't bring himself to have an appetite himself, right now.

He looked over to his bed. Merlin looked so small on the large piece of furniture, bringing to mind the weeks spent in Ealdor while Merlin recovered. Was there to be no end to his suffering? Suddenly exhausted, Arthur stripped himself, and lay carefully on the bed next to him.

On his side, he could see the pale face and the heavily bandaged torso. There were additional bandages on his arms- Arthur remembered grabbing them and holding tightly- and winced. He hadn't known, of course, but he still felt guilty for it.

Once he would have been tempted to touch that skin. Now he was very much afraid his touch would never be desired again. "Why couldn't you tell me?" he whispered miserably. He had informed Leon of what Gwen had told him. Watched the Knights face go red with carefully controlled fury. Arthur had been pained to hear Merlin had been suffering because of not only his closeness with the King- it seemed Gwen had been right with the Consort to Whore- but also his increasingly obvious practice of magic within Camelot.

As Gaius had said, laws changed faster than ideas. How had he been so blind?

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," he confessed to the unconscious form. "But I swear to you, by my crown and by my sword, I will hunt these people down and I will lay justice at your feet."

He fell asleep with that oath set firmly in his mind.


	20. Chapter 20

**_AN: Warning: Graphic Description of Non-Con! If you want to skip it, just scroll the part that's all in Italics. Possible Triggers. Read Italics at own risk._ **

**_MERLIN101011010101010MERLIN_ **

"Gwen!"

Arthur whipped around at the terrified shout, his shirt forgotten, as he raced toward the bed. Merlin was stirring, her name on his lips as soon as he woke, and he was obviously in a panic.

"Shhhh, Merlin," Arthur soothed. "She's safe. I promise you, we're all safe." He kept murmuring it, stroking the younger man's cheeks- the safest place to touch him, he had discovered, when he wasn't yet fully conscious.

Blue eyes finally fluttered open, searching frantically for a moment before settling on him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw focus in them. The warlock was a little warm to the touch, but Gaius's inspection this morning had said that was normal. That rest and care of the wounds would take care of it easily.

"Arthur," Merlin breathed in relief. Then realized where he was and began to try and sit up.

Arthur immediately put a hand lightly on the bare shoulder, restraining him. "Don't move. You're in my Chambers, safe."

Confusion reflected back at him for a moment, but then his memory seemed to return, and his face crumpled in shame. "I'm sorry," he murmured, tears welling up in his eyes. The swathe of bandages left no doubt he’d been treated, and therefore likely all his secrets were out.

Arthur shook his head, and he couldn't stop himself from responding. His own eyes filling with tears, he leaned over and gently kissed Merlin's temple. "There is _nothing_ for you to be sorry about, Merlin. This, this was _not_ your fault."

"I swear, Arthur, I didn't mean to betray you... and the horrible things I said..."

The words were so full of hurt, of misery, of regret and loss... Arthur couldn't stop himself. Without thinking, he gently gathered the younger man in his arms, holding him as tightly as he dared, rocking him a little. "The _only_ betrayal, Merlin, is by the person who did this. You are innocent."

He felt Merlin beginning to shake against him and, worried, went to release him thinking the contact- he _was_ shirtless- might be too much. He was surprised when, as soon as his hold loosened, Merlin scrambled to hold him tighter. Arthur complied, even as Merlin broke down into sobs, finally able to let out all he'd been hiding for weeks. "It's alright," Arthur murmured to him, tears tracking down his own cheeks. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, and you are not to blame."

He repeated the words over and over again until he felt the former servant go limp with sleep in his arms. Feeling deeply impacted by Merlin's trust in him, Arthur was gentle in returning him to a lying down position. "We'll get through this, Merlin. I swear. We'll do it together," he promised.

He finished getting dressed quickly, then opened his door. He was thankful it was Elyan standing there. The Knight looked up as soon as he appeared. "How is he, Sire?"

"How much does the castle know?" Arthur asked.

Elyan shook his head. "Only that there had been an attack in your chambers. That Merlin was hurt in the process. The details, Sire, Leon has kept only to myself and Percival. We thought it best to keep them from Gwaine."

Arthur nodded, thinking, appreciating Leon's delicacy and discretion in the matter. But he had two choices. Either he could hunt out the guilty party himself, or trust it to one of his Knights. He had to confess, he wasn't ready to leave Merlin's side just yet.

"Send Gwen to me," he requested of the guard on his left. Turning back to Elyan, he glanced at the other guards. "It was wise of Sir Leon, but Elyan- tell him."

"Are you sure that's wise, Arthur?"

"These people were arrogant enough to think they were safe from me, Elyan." Arthur turned stone cold eyes on the Knight. "They deserve to be hunted by Merlin's most dangerous hound."

Elyan nodded. None of them had any illusions of Gwaine's order of loyalty priorities. Those involved would pay dearly if he found them- and he would not stop until he did. "As you say, Sire."

"Tell him I don't care about anyone else involved- but I want the leader alive," Arthur added, unofficially giving his consent not to restrain Gwaine in any way. Elyan nodded, going a little green. There was no doubt of the carnage Arthur's orders would begin.

"Arthur?" Gwen called, hurrying down the corridor. "Is he-"

"He's... He woke up, for a few minutes," Arthur corrected himself- he had been about to use the 'fine', but they both knew it would be some time before that word applied again. He felt guilty. She must have run nearly the entire way, or had been close by. "He's sleeping again."

She nodded, glancing at her brother, who she thought looked distinctly a little pale. "What do you need?"

"I can't- he's not ready to be left alone, Gwen. I'm asking you to act as Regent for the time being. You, and you alone, can enter. I need you to liaise between myself and the Council. And... be careful. It was you they used to threaten him. I want two guards with you at all times." He hadn't shared that with her last night, and would not have now had he felt he had any choice. But she would not have taken his order of guards seriously if he hadn't.

She put a hand to her mouth, shaking her head. "No, Arthur... He didn't... not for me..."

Elyan reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "You know it would have been the same for anyone else used, Gwen. Had they threatened the Cook, it would have been the same. Don't take this on yourself," he reassured, his sideways glance taking Arthur into his words, at the same time chastising him for putting that on her shoulders.

Arthur nodded, both his appreciation and his agreement. "Keep an eye on Gaius, too, just to be sure." He turned to head back into the room, then stopped, looking over his shoulder. "And thank you, both, for your support."

He meant so much more, but left it simply at that.

**_MERLIN1010101001010101MERLIN_ **

Gaius kept Merlin heavily drugged for another three days, letting him wake only long enough to eat. It wasn't until he was positive there was no infection left in the wounds did he begin to ease the boy into the waking world for longer periods of time.

Arthur stayed close. Reports told him of two missing Knights. He quickly signed them off as deserters, much to the great offense of their families. Still, none dared nay say him as there was no proof they were anywhere in Camelot. Gwen assured him Gwaine's recent interest in agriculture was taken into account prior to reporting to him. He had also approved a list of specific names to accompany Gwaine on a Patrol to the Valley of the Fallen Kings- an unfortunately very dangerous area of late. He couldn't bring himself to honestly care how many returned. Gwaine was rash, impetuous, and prone to bouts of temper, but he would never risk an innocent. Each name was on that list for a reason. He would have perhaps felt sorry for them, were not every name or disappearance that of a fellow Knight. He felt shamed to his core. The Knights of Camelot were supposed to be above this. The Code created to govern their every action and thought. Gwaine had begun his hunt with the list Gwen had provided. It hadn't take long to discover that list was a lot long than they knew.

Gwen was doing a wonderful job of keeping the court ignorant of what happened. There wasn't anything overly important going on, though there was an upcoming visit from Princess Mithian. Arthur had always been happy to maintain a friendship with her, and her father. He had used his foreknowledge in expressing his desire to make an alliance _without_ the promise of a marriage this time. Through their correspondence back and forth, their letters had reduced in formality while increasing in friendly familiarity. He was pleased that she had hinted at wonderful news to share. Her previous visit had been a happy one, though she had not overly liked Uther much.

A small groan made him look up from the letter he was currently writing to the woman who occupied his thoughts, responding with the delight her visit would bring. Merlin shifted again, a small cry escaping him. Gaius's drugs could not completely take away the pain, and finding a comfortable position on his front or back was never easy. He made his way to the bed, having learned to sit on it carefully so the dip didn't hurt his friend more. Merlin always came out of sleep in stages, and the first stage often seemed to find him forgetting about his injuries.

"Shhh... easy now," Arthur murmured. He was all too familiar with the pounding headaches that tended to come with Gaius's pain potions. It didn't matter what he said. He had found his voice always helped Merlin transition into an easier waking. The subconscious trust was one Arthur valued. He held a cup of water to the boys lips, encouraging him to drink. "Slowly," he cautioned.

Merlin swallowed a few more sips. By the time Arthur turned back from putting the cup on the table, his eyes were open and for the first time in a while, tracking the King's movements. "Arthur?" he questioned.

"How much do you remember?" This changed each time he woke, and Arthur had found it best to go with it.

"Everything," Merlin groaned. "But why here? I think, I think I should be in my own room..."

"Your 'room' Merlin, is barely more than a closet. And with being attached to a common area, it was easier to keep you here. That way the guards don't have to be stretched out as thin," Arthur explained patiently. They had gone through this before.

Merlin's eyes went wide suddenly. Arthur was ready for him, and had a firm arm across his collar bone to keep him from bolting upwards. "Gwen!"

"Is safe, Merlin, I swear," Arthur answered seriously, pleased that he actually had to exert a little more force than usual to keep the boy still. "I have guards on her at all times. The poor girl can barely go to the privy alone. Gaius is also well watched."

Merlin nodded, but Arthur didn't move his arm until he felt the warlock relax back into the softness of the bed. He'd made that mistake once already, and Gaius had been furious at having to replace some of the stitches.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked. Merlin blinked, and seemed to give the question some thought. Progress, Arthur considered. Usually the automatic answer was 'fine'.

"Like I've a head half full of wool and half beating drums."

Arthur chuckled. "That sounds about right," he nodded, offering a sympathetic smirk. "Gaius has been generous with the pain remedies."

Merlin frowned. "Tired of being drugged."

"I know, Merlin, but it’s for your own good. You still need lots of rest to heal."

Merlin looked confused for a moment, then blinked, and nodded his agreement. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Had Merlin initially meant the pain remedies, or something else? He wanted badly to ask, but Gaius had warned him against it frequently.

Against his better judgment, Arthur forced a smile, putting his hand gently on Merlin's arm, giving it a light rub. "How about something to eat?" He turned to get up, but was surprised to find his hand grabbed, weakly but obviously with intent. "What is it, Merlin?" he asked in concern, afraid Merlin was in pain.

"I know you want names. I know you think I'm protecting them. But, I swear to you Arthur, I have tried and I don't remember," Merlin answered seriously. He had seen the expressions crossing the King's face, knew that not knowing was driving the man he loved mad inside. Had the roles been reversed, he knew he would absolutely _need_ to know, beyond any kind of rational thought or consideration. Arthur's avoidance and restraint made Merlin want to explain to him all the more.

"Merlin-" Arthur started to refute, only to be silenced by another tug of his hand. This was important to Merlin.

"But, if you let me, I can show you."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What do you mean, 'show me'?"

"With magic, I can share the memories with you. If... if you trust me?" he asked, hesitantly. Fearing that despite Arthur's assurance of his lack of culpability, that they had lost something vital to both of them.

Arthur softened immediately. "Of course I trust you. I'm concerned, that's all. Gaius was very... persistent... with his opinions that forcing this knowledge from you wouldn't help your recovery. He was clear that it would make things worse. As angry as I am, as badly as I want justice, I _will not_ risk that. Do you understand?" Arthur risked folding Merlin's hand into his, giving it a quick kiss. "And because I know you, I know you'll do anything I ask no matter the harm to yourself. I won't ask that of you. I can't. My heart simply couldn't bear to see you suffer more."

Merlin's eyes filled with tears, his expression of gratitude, and he nodded, moving his arm up to wrap it around Arthur's head, pulling his face closer to his. Surprised, and not wanting to hurt him, Arthur obeyed. His eyes closed in both thrill and shock when he felt Merlin's lips against his, and he automatically shifted in a position to allow the younger man easier access, bringing his arms around carefully, delighting in the feeling of that warm body against him again.

The kiss, while hesitant, was still strong, determined, and by the gods, it had been so long... Arthur felt every part of him on fire, desire warring with rational thought. He barely heard Merlin's breathed, "Be ready," as he met the younger man again, demanding, giving, hating, and loving all at once. He had only a moment to feel confused when the kiss suddenly turned from passion to apology.

And then his world began to blur...

**_MERLING101010WARNING:GRAPHIC:NON-CON2DESCRIPTION AHEAD101010MERLIN_ **

_The corridor ahead of him was familiar. He'd walked it often enough, normally bustling with activity. After tonight's Feast, he wasn't surprised to find it nearly deserted. So many were still in the Hall. Arthur had done well by his Uncle, Merlin thought. He knew there was entertainment planned for the entire night, paid to stay until the last soul finally left. The week of celebrations were being fully taken advantage of. Merlin mused to himself, knowing how quiet the entire city would be come morning. Many would not open their shops until well past noon. He yawned. Three nights of feasts and even he was beginning to feel it. Despite his new titles,_ he _was never given the opportunity to sleep the morning away._

_He stopped when he heard something rattle behind him, but then ignored it. He knew his King, and Arthur would need his chambers readied for the night. A sick sense of humor had him scheduling a training session with his youngest knights in the morning. He wouldn't stay late himself, but he'd grinned when Merlin commented on it, that the nights entertainment would keep the young knights up for most of the evening. Fighting under extreme conditions, he called it. Merlin snorted to himself. The man had a cruel streak, plain and simple._

_Suddenly a hand clamped over his mouth from behind. Instinctively his eyes flashed gold and whoever was behind was sent into the wall. Spinning to look, he saw a man who looked as average as they came before pain exploded behind his eyes and his world went black._

_Waking slowly, his head pounding, Merlin tried to remember what had happened. He tried to sit up, frowning when he found himself bound to... what... the posts of a table? He was bent over it, face down. He couldn't see. Everything was hazy, blurred as if he had water in his eyes. He tried to access his magic, alarmed and beginning to struggle when he found he couldn't concentrate enough._

_It was then he discovered two things... one, he was naked, and two, his legs were bound spread eagle to the table legs as well. He tried to work his mouth to call for help, but found a dry, dusty gag tied across it. In his mind, he began to panic. He didn't understand what was going on._

_Someone was talking, but it sound garbled and far away._

" _King's... whore... come a long way... weakness for servants..."_

_He couldn't place the voice, but he thought it should be familiar. He blinked his eyes furiously trying to clear them, only to find it getting worse. He felt light headed, too. Every breath he drew felt like fire on his throat._

_Drugged. He'd been drugged._

" _See... he knows his place... "_

_He shuddered as he felt something come down, hard, on his back, surprised by the pain. It wasn't a cut. It was meant to welt, not damage. Again. And Again. He lost count, tears adding to the blur in his eyes._

" _... Arthur... can't... love... whore"_

_Merlin shut his mind to the sounds, partially glad he couldn't quite make them out. He silently prayed for this to be over soon. It felt like it had already gone on forever. Whatever drugs had numbed his magic had not done the same to his skin. His back was on fire._

_Then the switch stopped, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut in relief. Until he felt it, even harder, across his buttocks. It went on long enough that he knew it would be a week before he could sit down again. Celebrating. What had they been celebrating? He tried to focus his mind on a single thought, to focus on the multiple voices around him. He needed to access his magic. He understood enough to know he had to escape. Enough, too, to know he couldn't._

_The stinging moved to take in the back of his legs, alternating between the two until he could feel the bruising down to his bones. It took him a few minutes to realize it had stopped, in fact, the throbbing was so deep. He felt a hand run over his butt cheeks, and cried out, shocked at how much the light touch had hurt. How long had he been in here?_

" _Whore... see... how good..."_

_Merlin froze in horror when he felt his cheeks spread, felt something blunt at his rear entrance. He started to struggle. Not this. Anything but this..._

_He screamed into the gag when he was invaded, shocked into stillness, into trying anything to move away from the erection inside him, splitting him in two. He couldn't breathe, but another scream was torn from him when it was sharply withdrawn then thrust in again. And so on it continued... he choked on the gag, on the bile in his throat. As soon as one finished, another replaced it. Sticky fluids ran down his thighs, evidence of their enjoyment in his agony. He didn't know how many before he lost the ability to scream. To do anything but cry, silently, grimacing in pain and frustration._

_Arthur, I'm sorry, he thought as darkness crept along the edges of his mind. There wasn't enough air. He was suffocating. He focused on that, welcomed it. Better to feel that than... oh gods. He'd never had a chance... Arthur, I'm sorry..._

_He was surprised to wake up the next day, filthy and caked in blood and their leftover residue. Surprised to find a note pinned through the skin in his chest. He blinked, and was able to read it. "Breathe a word and the Servant Queen will be next." He coughed, suddenly aware the gag was gone. He shifted, and cried out. Everything hurt. His insides felt like they'd been permanently scrambled, his skin raged and throbbed as though heated from an inner fire. But he could tell no serious damage had been done. Nothing that would be visible through his clothes._

_His head felt stuffed with wool. He winced. That felt like it was a familiar thought, like it had prevented something- his magic! Lifting a shaking hand, he tried to create one of his butterflies. His magic stirred within him, but couldn't yet answer his summons. Still. He had not lost it completely. Shame welled up in him. He felt very much like the whore they'd accused him of being. He'd lost count how many times he'd been taken. He briefly considered telling someone, but dismissed it. The idea of the same treatment being given to Gwen made him lean over and vomit everything he had ever eaten. He couldn't even identify them, so their threat was very real._

_And as long as it was real, it would buy his silence, and he knew in his heart that it would happen again. He suddenly felt very alone, and, for the first time in his life, absolutely powerless._

_That night, he discovered he'd been right. And many nights thereafter._

**_MERLIN1010END:GRAPHIC1010110101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur stumbled away from Merlin, gasping, horrified, terrified... all the leftover feelings from the shared memory still fresh. He struggled not to vomit. Tears were running down his face, and he sobbed. "By god, Merlin..." The feelings and sensations began to fade, letting him get a better grip on himself, but he was still in shock, still frozen to the spot he had landed. Again and again the memory replayed itself until he could no longer attach any emotion to it. Until it numbed him, and ever so slowly, began to fade away as well.

The boy in question sat up on the bed, holding himself up with one shaking arm, watching Arthur closely, but sadly, looking for all the world like he'd just lost everything that had ever meant anything to him.

Merlin knew he had. Knew he would the minute he offered to share the memories. But he also knew eventually, Arthur would get frustrated by his insistence of not being able to remember, of seemingly protecting his attackers. Eventually that would have led to friction between them as Arthur inevitably started to wonder if Merlin had secretly enjoyed it.

No, he'd decided, better to make this cut sooner rather than later. At least this way, he hoped, it would help Arthur recognize that he hadn't betrayed him on purpose. That it hadn't been his intention to give a part of himself he had given to no one. His whole body started to shake, and he felt the exhaustion from the spell mixing with his already weakened condition. He had to move, first, though. He was no longer welcome in the bed he was currently soiling with his presence. Whore indeed. At least whores got paid. He struggled to make his way off the bed.

Arthur shook his head, finally able to rid himself of the awful visions flashing in front of him. His heart ached for what his lover had experienced. Weeks of torture, weeks of being drugged, weeks of being told he was nothing but a whore...

A whore... Arthur whipped himself around just in time to see Merlin beginning to stand from the bed. "Merlin!" Arthur cried out, moving even as he knew it was too late. The moment Merlin let go of the support of the bed, he collapsed. The King barely had time to catch him before he crashed onto the stone floor. He was still holding the figure when Gaius came in to do his daily checks.

"Arthur!" Gaius cried, moving forward quickly. He let the King gently set the boy back on the bed, doing a thorough check of all his injuries to see if any had opened. There was a small spot of blood blossoming against the white bandage on his chest, but that was the only one. "What the devil did you do?"

"Gaius..." Arthur started, guilty.

"I told you!" Gaius shouted, scared for his ward and disappointed in his King. "I _told_ you he wasn't ready yet!" He thumbed back Merlin's eyelids, frowning. "What's this? Did he use magic?"

"He... I tried to tell him no, Gaius, that it could wait. I never asked, I swear. But then he kissed me, and..." Arthur choked off.

"Arthur, what happened?" Gaius asked sharply, taking in the King's pale face, seeing the shake to his hands as he raised them to wipe over his tear stained face.

"He shared the memories with me."

Gaius stared. "He did _what_?" he asked incredulously. "He's too weak... he shouldn't have even been able to summon that kind of power yet..." He looked back to the boy. "Stubborn, mule headed fools, both of you." As gruff and as angry as his tone, Arthur noticed his touch was carefully steady and gentle. Gaius finally stood up straight, content with his examination. "Well, he'll feel it when we wakes up, but I can't see as he's done himself too much damage with this stunt. I'll give him some more pain-"

"No more drugs," Arthur ordered sharply. The older man frowned at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please, Gaius. Leave some. If he needs it, I'll make sure he takes it, but no more forcing it on him." Never again, Arthur thought.

Gaius opened his mouth to object, but seemed to see something in Arthur's expression. He nodded, reluctantly. "All right, Arthur, you next. Come sit."

Arthur jerked in surprise. "What?"

"A Memory spell is nothing to take lightly, Sire. It would have been risky even at full power. Damn fools, both of you. Now, come, sit, before I lose my temper... again."

Arthur sat obediently through the physician's assessment, answering his questions. By the time Gaius had finished, Arthur felt better. In his mind he'd been able to separate the scenes he'd witnessed, moved away from them while still being able to draw them up for examination. The natural numbness they had created earlier helped.

"Well?" Gaius asked. Arthur blinked at him. "Was it at least worth it?"

Arthur considered carefully. He wished he'd known what was going through Merlin's head when he tried to get up, but he thought he could make an accurate guess. He thought sharing the experience had likely been overall easier on Merlin than eventually having to dredge through every tiny detail over and over again. It gave him a better understanding of what the warlock had been through, and would therefore make him a better support than if he had been left floundering, guessing, at what Merlin couldn't have expressed. So, yes, for those scant few reasons, it was worth it.

But he didn't think that was what Gaius was asking. He frowned. "He was heavily drugged every time. Whatever numbed his magic, it caused all kinds of other problems. He sincerely has no idea who his attackers were."

Gaius nodded, glanced at his ward, then turned back to the King. Perhaps there was some benefit to be had. If he could avoid having to ask Merlin... "Just how accurate were these memories? Were you an observer, or did you actually live it through Merlin's eyes?"

Arthur paled, and had to swallow the bile rising in his throat. "I lived it." Would it have been easier, had he been merely an observer? He didn't think so.

Gaius sat down on the bed next to him. "Arthur, if you truly lived it through his eyes, if you could answer some questions it would be of great help. There are some things happening with him that I am at a loss to explain, and therefore don't understand how to treat."

Arthur nodded immediately. "Of course, Gaius. Anything."

"Firstly, I need you to understand just how dangerous that was. If you had just observed the events, it would be bad enough. But to have actually _experienced_ them, as he did- it would be as traumatic to your mind as it was to his. It may be that your mind has trouble separating reality from the vivid memory. I need you to keep a very close eye on your moods for the next few weeks. If you experience any irrational fear, or anger, or trouble sleeping, a sense of losing time... I need you to tell me, without delay."

Arthur nodded again. He was confident that while those memories would haunt him, they would do so because he was all _too_ aware of just _who_ they belonged to. It would have been easier, he thought, if it _had_ happened to him. He couldn't bear the thought that it had been Merlin who suffered.

"Now, you mentioned this drug. Do you remember what it tasted like? What its effects were?"

"He was always knocked unconscious, and then administered the drug. He never got to see or smell the source. When he'd wake, his vision was blurry, like he had water in his eyes and couldn't clear it out. Hearing too, was the same, he could hear voices, but they were distorted, with only a few words coming through. He couldn't think, couldn't concentrate. He felt lightheaded, dizzy. There was always a sick feeling too, but I don't know how much of that was drug and how much was fear. And there was something else, on the gag, I think. He didn't register it, but thinking back, it irritated his throat when he breathed. When he..." Arthur paused, swallowing. "When he screamed, it felt like someone was dragging a shaving razor through his lungs and throat."

"I know it's difficult, Sire, but it's a good sign that you can make observations he likely didn't at the time. And his magic?"

Arthur thought back, thought to how easily it had come to him the first time they had surprised him in the corridor. "For most of the attack, it was like it didn't exist. He couldn't concentrate enough to reach for it. He always lost consciousness- sometimes later, sometimes earlier. When he'd wake again, it was always morning, or close to it. He could feel it, then, but not summon it. It always came back, though, within an hour or two of waking."

"And it was the same every time?"

Arthur nodded. He looked hopefully at the physician. "Does it help? Can you treat him?"

Gaius nodded, reaching over and patting Arthur's knee reassuringly. "I think I have a better idea now. Thank you, Arthur."

Gaius stood going to the door, he looked back. Arthur was sitting on the bed again, his one hand firmly wrapped in Merlin's, the other stroking his forehead, murmuring softly that he was there, that Merlin was safe. It set his old heart at rest, knowing the King genuinely seemed to love his ward, and that their connection was strong enough to overcome this. Remembering his earlier anger, he cleared his throat to get the King's attention.

"It's going to be natural, Arthur, to feel guilty for this. He was drinking honey tea for weeks, and I thought he just had a cold. I should have seen the signs much earlier. But you mustn't forget. Merlin is very good at hiding what he doesn't want seen. In the end, we all share a little of the blame, and in some ways we _did_ fail him. But, Arthur, in others... he failed us, too. There were other ways he could have sought help," Gaius explained, not unkindly but with strong conviction. "It's natural to feel angry with him for that."

Arthur nodded seriously, a small part of him relieved he wasn't the horrible monster he'd been beginning to think he was. He _was_ angry at Merlin. Not for what had happened. Never for that. But for not finding a way to come to them. For not trusting them. The old man's benediction tightened his throat, and he was grateful for it.

"Thank you, Gaius."


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur woke slowly as the light of the sun penetrated the fog of sleep. He stretched a little, stopping mid-way when he realized there was a weight on his chest- heavier than his blanket.

Blinking, he looked down to see a mop of raven hair under his chin. Merlin was half draped over his chest, arm curled around Arthur's abdomen, sleeping on his side. Arthur noted that his breathing seemed easier, with Arthur's muscles supporting the majority of the boys' weight.

He debated getting up, knew there would be a servant here before long- if there had not been already given that his curtains were open. But- the steady rise and fall of Merlin's back indicated a rest the most peaceful he'd seen the warlock have since being taken off Gaius's pain remedies. His muscles, normally tight with pain, were relaxed and slack. His warm breath skittered across Arthur's skin.

Arthur smiled, deciding he very much liked waking up to this added weight. He slowly moved an arm to carefully cup around Merlin's shoulders, lightly resting it there. He definitely liked this. It would be best for Merlin to get all the rest he could, he decided and shifted only slightly to get more comfortable. Before he'd realized it, he had fallen asleep again.

"Sire," someone whispered very quietly, giving his shoulder a light shake. Blinking, Arthur turned to the source of the whisper. The sun was well past coming in his windows. He'd slept past noon, he realized.

"Leon," he whispered back, noting Merlin was still fast asleep on top of him. He would do nothing to wake him. Obviously, they were both exhausted. "What's the matter?"

If Leon was perturbed by the intimate position, he never let it show. If anything, the Knight offered a pleased, absent smile to see Merlin resting so soundly, and was being very careful to keep his voice low. Most of the castle had heard Merlin's nightmares, he was sure. "Lord Agravaine is demanding to see you."

"What? _Now_?"

Leon nodded sadly. "Your servant has tried valiantly to tell him you were indisposed at the moment, and that you would see him as soon as you were available, but he's no Merlin to annoy him until he leaves. Lord Agravaine is insistent. I barely managed to convince him to let me come first."

Arthur nodded. "Let him in then."

Leon hesitated, then motioned toward Arthur's new human blanket. "Do you need me to move him?"

"If my Uncle was informed I was indisposed, then he deserves whatever he walks in on," Arthur answered back, shaking his head. "And Leon, strongly suggest to him that he keep his voice down, or he'll find himself without a tongue."

Leon did a double take, found nothing in Arthur's expression to indicate he was in any way joking, nodded, and left.

Agravaine, unlike Leon, made his shock and irritation at Arthur's position show very plainly on his face. "Arthur-"

"Shhh!" Arthur hissed. "I made no jest, Uncle," he finished, knowing full well Leon would have passed on his _exact_ words.

"Forgive me, Nephew," Agravaine corrected himself, his voice turning to a rough whisper, sensing Arthur's seriousness. "I merely wanted a moment of your time."

Arthur frowned when Merlin suddenly tensed against him. "Make it quick then."

"Of course. I was, as was all, devastated to hear of the insult to your household." Arthur thought those were strange words to use for the attack everyone believed had happened. "I hope you don't mind, but I have some old connections in Camelot. Once I heard, I immediately set my own guards to investigating the matter."

Merlin stirred then, not waking, but agitated in his sleep. Arthur absently ran his fingertips lightly over Merlin's bare shoulders, which seemed to soothe him. There was a small part of him that perversely enjoyed Agravaine's obvious discomfort and distraction with the action. "And what did you hope to find, Uncle, that my Knights cannot?"

"Referring to the Prince Consort as a Whore would be a very distinctive attitude, Sire, and likely more visible in circles higher than those your Knights generally travel."

Arthur's fingers froze, and Merlin moaned in his sleep, his face scrunching up. The King forced himself to start moving suddenly stiff fingers again. Forced himself to breathe. To nod his understanding. "And were you able to discover anything?"

"I do believe I have, Arthur, though it is disturbing indeed. I believe it was an act of revenge from Sir Beonin's family. Apparently there was some issue prior to my arrival?"

Arthur felt numb to his core. He'd been cautious. Keeping Agravaine on the outskirts of power. Always welcomed but never truly included. Nothing of a sensitive nature was ever said around him. Old visions of his alliance with Morgana had kept him suitably wary of putting too much stock into his Uncles advice.

Merlin cried out then, moving harshly. Arthur held his shoulders more tightly. "I apologize, Uncle. This is serious news indeed. Gaius should be here momentarily with Merlin's pain medications. Let me get him settled again and I'll join you and the Council in the War Room. Please make sure to bring the guard who made the discovery so he can give a witnessed testimonial."

Agravaine looked extremely pleased with himself. Arthur wanted to be sick to his stomach.

"As you say, Sire."

Once he had left the room, Arthur slowly eased Merlin off of him. "Shhhh... it's okay. I know, Merlin, I know," he whispered soothingly to the boy. He worked to settle him again, hoping he'd fall asleep, but the boy tossed his head as dreams assaulted him.

In his drugged haze, the voices of his attackers had been distorted. But in the similar haze of sleep, Merlin's mind had recognized one, causing his current agitation.

Agravaine had been part of the assault. And even knowing what he was capable of, to some degree, Arthur had welcomed him with open arms. His Uncle had made _him_ a part of the assault by being confident in his safety as the King's Uncle- his Blood. Fury rose in him, normally wild and irrational. This time his anger was cold- calculated. He knew what he had to do.

**_MERLIN1010101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Servants dashed out of the way as Arthur strode purposely down the corridor, flanked by Leon, Percival, Elyan and Gwaine. Their grim expressions were implacable and serious. A small contingent of Guards followed behind them. Overall, it was an impressive display of deadly intent.

Turning into the War Room, Agravaine had only a moment to offer his oily smile before it fell. It took only one look at Arthur's expression to realize he'd made a mistake.

"Lord Agravaine De Bois, I place you under arrest for Treason against the Crown of Camelot. I charge you with the assault of the Court Sorcerer and Prince Consort. I add the charge of conspiring with a known enemy of Camelot, Morgana Pendragon. I hereby strip you of your titles, your lands, and all the privileges as was bestowed with those ranks. Your sentence will be decided upon by a council of your peers and announced to you in the morning."

Agravaine looked shocked as the Knights moved forward as one to take hold of him. "Surely, Arthur, you can't be serious."

"I have never been more serious, Uncle."

"On the word of a _servant_?" Agravaine hissed, huffing incredulously.

Arthur couldn't stop himself as Agravaine was lead to him, he motioned the guards to stop as he leaned in closer to his ear so only Agravaine would hear, but in it was a deadly cold. "In your efforts to cover your own miserable hide, _Uncle_ , it was actually _your_ word that gave you away. No one was told of the assault. If you truly thought him nothing more than my whore, you should have remembered I don't like to share my toys," Arthur growled. He turned his head slightly to make sure he could look his Uncle in the eye as he finished. "I swear by all that is holy that before morning dawns you will beg for the mercy of death. This castle will echo with your screams, and none will lift a finger to aid you. A guarantee of the same fate has taken care of any bribes you have in place for your safety. I will put your head at Merlin's feet and send whatever pieces the Knights leave of your body to Morgana myself."

He motioned for them to move forward, ignoring Agravaine's fear driven rants. The contingent of Guards pushed forward the few of Agravaine's personal guards to join their master. The others had been rounded up as soon as Arthur had sent the command and were already in the cells.

By the next morning, he'd proven he was a man of his word. There hadn't been much left to send Morgana.


	22. Chapter 22

Arthur smiled as he watched Merlin sleep. While saddened that Merlin hadn't again curled up to him as he had earlier in the week, he definitely did seem to be sleeping easier. Not being able to help himself, he used his fingers to brush an errand strand of hair from Merlin's eyes. He was so entranced with the visual and feel of the warm skin beneath his fingers that he continued to run a finger over Merlin's cheeks, then down his jaw, and finally across lips that twitched up into a smile.

Startled, Arthur looked up to find vivid azure eyes staring at him, a sparkle of amusement in them he'd not seen in a very long time. "You are stunning," Arthur breathed, delighting in the surprise, then the blush, that spread across Merlin's face. "I have a treat for you," Arthur smiled.

"Unless it's a vat full of honey to stop these stitches from itching..." Merlin grinned, trying to cover his embarrassment over Arthur's attentions.

Arthur grinned back. "As a matter of fact, that's close." He laid down flat so Merlin could see over him. He knew the moment the warlock saw the giant tub placed close to the fireplace, steam coming from it. Merlin's eyes lit up. Arthur pushed himself back up, blocking the view. "Gaius said it was all right, but there are some conditions."

Merlin nodded eagerly, already struggling to throw off the heavy blanket. Arthur's hand on his knee stopped him, and he noticed the King's expression was serious. "Arthur..."

"We _will_ do this his way, Merlin," Arthur admonished sternly. "First, I should warn you, there are some herbs in there that may sting initially. Gaius assures me it won't pain for very long, but it will help ease the itch once it has a chance to work." He saw Merlin wince, and suspected he knew exactly which herbs those were. "Second, you have to let me do all the work."

Merlin frowned at that. "But I-"

"The last time you decided to stand on your own, you collapsed and were unconscious for days. I know you're frustrated, but I also you're weaker than you like to let on. I'm serious, Merlin. I do ALL the work. You're to move as little as possible. Especially once the stitching gets wet. Are we agreed?"

Merlin hesitated, but his longing for a more thorough wash than a bucket could provide won out over his pride. He nodded his acceptance. Arthur forced him to meet his eyes, his own deadly serious, to be assured Merlin would actually comply. He would _not_ risk the ire of the old physician again.

Finally satisfied, Arthur sat up and went about slowly removing the bandages. Gaius had been very specific in his instructions, and as much as he knew Merlin wanted- needed- this, he wasn't willing to hurt him to do it. His face fell, a little, seeing the wounds again. All but the most recent bruising had gone, with even those now a rich yellow and brown against the pale skin. The cuts had mostly healed, leaving scars in their wake.

Arthur flinched a little at seeing them added to older ones. So many.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin murmured, grabbing at the blanket to cover himself up. Arthur grabbed his hand, then forced his eyes to Merlin's face.

"Each one a badge of honor, Merlin. Each one earned protecting Camelot, or one of its citizens. Don't ever be ashamed of them," Arthur murmured, leaning in to lightly kiss each one. When he got to a small scar of a nick at the bottom of Merlin's throat, he couldn't make himself stop. That long neck begged for a feather light touch of his lips. Merlin shivered in response, giving a soft moan when Arthur hit a particular spot, just over his pulse. He kissed along that perfect jaw line, and finally found eager lips waiting to meet his own.

Once he was sure Merlin was well distracted, he lifted him carefully, carrying the still too light form over to the bath. "Cheater," Merlin murmured against him, and he smiled back. He was in no hurry to put the younger man down, enjoying the slow, tender kisses. He offered every bit of encouragement he could through it, knowing a part of Merlin was searching, was trying to confirm that this was wanted. Not for the first time, Arthur was grateful that Merlin seemed perfectly willing in this activity. _They_ had never kissed him. Never been tender with him. Only once, when Arthur had gotten a little rough in his passion, had it been a problem. He'd learned to follow Merlin's lead, to let him set the conditions.

Finally, the younger man pulled back, conscious of his weight. "Do I get that now bath?"

Arthur smirked back. "I think you've earned it," he agreed, gently lowering the warlock into the water.

The arousal he'd felt quickly dispersed when Merlin tensed, gasping as the herb steeped water hit his wounds. He worried that he may have made it too strong, but after a moment, Merlin let out the breath he had been holding.

"Sting, huh?" Arthur said doubtfully, and Merlin laughed. He gasped again when Arthur scooped up some of the water, pouring it over his shoulders so it ran down both his chest and back.

"Gaius is generous with the word," he ground out, closing his eyes. Arthur worked as quickly as he could. He washed Merlin's hair, wishing he could take the time to really enjoy the activity, but promised himself there would be time in the future. He'd been bathed by servants many times. He'd never had the pleasure of bathing a lover before. He added it to the list of things he appeared to very much enjoy doing with Merlin. It seemed he was developing quite the fetish regarding the raven locks.

Once he had made sure the herb water got into every cut, he picked up a cloth, running it over the patches of Merlin's skin that were free of injury. He liked watching the water make little streams. When he was finished, he found himself disappointed. There was a part of him that wanted to strip down himself and crawl in with the warlock.

Instead, he settled himself on the floor next to the tub, his arms hanging over his knees. "Gwaine was wondering when you'd be ready to see him," he announced. Merlin had been very quiet so far, and it made him nervous.

Merlin blinked, brought out of his thoughts. "I'd be happy to see him," he replied absently.

Arthur frowned, then decided it was time. "Merlin, we haven't talked much, about what happened."

Merlin tensed. "You saw. I remember that."

"I did, and got an earful from Gaius for it, by the way. He's oddly scary when he wants to be," Arthur teased.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have done it, or prepared you better. I thought- I thought I could show you, but protect you from it. I was wrong," he finished, quietly. "Once I let it loose, I couldn't contain it."

Arthur reached over and took his hand, kissing the tightly clenched knuckles. "I would give anything for it to have been me," he whispered sincerely.

Merlin looked horrified. " _I_ wouldn't."

Arthur chuckled lightly. "I think we've already spoken of how dangerous we are to each other when it comes to that. When you're ready, you'll have to have a talk with Gwen, though. She was devastated when she found out it was her you were protecting. Don't look at me like that. Merlin, you're the most powerful sorcerer to live. Everyone knew you would have _had_ to have a _damned_ strong motivation not to fight them harder."

"I fought them as hard as I could. I hated every minute. I hated knowing they would be there every night. I hate knowing they might still because I can't identify them. And most of all, I hated that I was betraying you. That someone else had taken what I hadn't been able to give you," Merlin whispered.

Arthur's heart ached for the young man. "You didn't betray me, Merlin. When we discovered what had happened, I feared whether you would ever be able to stand my touch again." Merlin looked shocked. "But when I was the only one who could comfort you, even in an unconscious state, I knew what was between us hadn't been touched by them. Not really. When you wouldn't let me let you go that first time you truly woke up, I knew in that moment that if I could do nothing but spend a lifetime simply holding you, I would die a happy man."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, but Arthur needed him to hear this. Arthur ran his thumb over the knuckles he had kissed, slowly coaxing out the long, thin fingers. "Lust is about sex. It's about finding someone attractive on a level that stirs something within you. It makes you temporarily mad with passion, with desire, and sometimes even obsession. And it can feel very good. But it can't last. It's too surface. One little change, and it all collapses." Arthur looked at the man in the tub, leaning his cheek on their joined hands to look at the man who held his soul. "Love, though. That's different. That's wanting someone for everything they are, for everything they could be. That's a desire to grow with them, to be part of them at the deepest level. It's loving something inside them that only you can see. So it doesn't matter what their outside looks like. Time will change that. Time and experience will even change perception and personality. Love is recognizing that one special part of their core being that will always be the same."

"And sex isn't a part of that?" Merlin asked. In this, he knew very little. He'd been terrified his scars would change things. Afraid that Arthur would see his battered body and compare it to Gwen's smooth skin. Afraid this experience would change him forever because now there was a dark place inside him, a place where he felt filthy and soiled and unworthy of his King. He didn't know what he could offer his King anymore. He didn't know if it would be enough.

Arthur smiled. "When it's love, sex is a desire to bring joy, pleasure, and connection." He ran his fingertips over the calloused palm he was holding. "It's wanting to share everything with them, give all of yourself and take in all they are. It's about wanting to find a way to meld two into one. Love is about tucking away those precious memories, because eventually, time will take that away too. When all that's left is your chance to hold them, when a hug becomes as intimate as the joining once was."

"How do you know?" Merlin asked, daring to hope, but still a hidden mess inside of confusion and fear.

Arthur chuckled. "As I told Gwaine, my education has been _very_ thorough. My father made sure I had only the best tutors in _every_ subject and facet of life. My first time was with one particularly talented tutor. And I thought I loved her, after that. The more she taught me, the more deeply I fell for her. I was very young," Arthur explained, with a blush. "When it became obvious to her what was happening, she sat me down and had a discussion much like this one. Lust, she told, could only ever end in hurt feelings. Because we're human- designed to grow and learn through experience- we're not really meant to understand the difference until we're older. When we're young, we are driven to procreate. She called it a divine desire to continue the species. Every animal has that base desire. She said what made us human, more than just another animal, was our ability to eventually rise above that, to recognize that there could be more."

Merlin smiled. "She sounds very intelligent." He had detected a genuine fondness in Arthur's voice as he reminisced.

Arthur nodded. "She was. She broke my heart, of course. She never came back after we talked. And I fell in love with my next tutor, too, who wasn't _nearly_ so gentle in _his_ rejection. By the third, I was beginning to recognize what she had been trying to tell me. I was always grateful for her wisdom, and never forgot it."

Arthur leaned in and kissed the palm he had been tracing. "Your core, Merlin, is made up of strength, loyalty, compassion, and the ability to put others ahead of yourself. That's what I learned first to admire, then slowly respect, and eventually, to love. I haven't always been the best at showing it," Arthur confessed. Merlin made a small noise of dispute, but he ignored it. "Whether it was Destiny that created a magical bond between us, or we somehow did it ourselves, I believe I have all of you that matters most to me."

Arthur looked up, saw tears in the younger man's eyes, and decided he needed to lighten things up. He grinned. "Not that you don't look absolutely edible right now," he chuckled, using his teeth to gently nip the inner wrist of the hand he was holding, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sadly, however much I'm enjoying the view, I think it’s time we get you dry."

Merlin was quiet while Arthur helped him dry, carefully patting his healing back while they sat on Arthur's bed. Arthur was gently applying an ointment to the cuts when Merlin turned his head slightly toward him.

"What do you want from me?" he asked quietly. He needed to know. For all the fear raging inside of him, for all the nightmares he had suffered through in his time serving Arthur, for all he had willingly sacrificed and would likely continue to sacrifice. He needed to know why. He needed to know he wasn't the bought whore his attackers had said he was. Titles and new clothes... was he so cheap to purchase?

Arthur wanted to give a flippant answer. But, with the tense set of the boys’ shoulders, the way he held himself, the slight breaking of his voice, he knew this was important to Merlin. He had hinted at lot in their previous discussion, but Merlin needed clarity, obviously needed to hear something specific. He carefully considered before he spoke, deciding simple truth was needed more than eloquence.

"I want you to know without a shadow of doubt that your place is here, with me, always. Not because of destiny, not because of duty. But because I can't breathe without you- I don't want to." Arthur carefully wrapped his arms around the slim waist, scooting himself closer until he wasn't quite touching the torn back, but close enough for Merlin to feel his breath on his neck. "I want you to always be you, to challenge me, defy me in spite of my title, as you have always done. I want to grow with you, benefit from your wisdom and share in your laughter."

"Most of those you've always had, Arthur," Merlin whispered. "I need to know what you want from me now- now that..."

Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the younger man's hurt as his own. Merlin couldn't bring himself to say it, but he could clearly hear it anyway. _Now that I'm broken. Now that I'm tainted._ "Merlin, they took something precious from you. They took an experience that should have been wonderful and made it a nightmare. We can't undo what's been done," he took a deep breath, sensing that more forgiveness wasn't what the young warlock was seeking. "I want you to recognize that you have already won over them. They sought to destroy you, and yet you're here, in my arms. A little bruised, a little battered, forever changed, but _here_ , and healing. They lost, Merlin, when you kept silent for fear of Gwen's life. They wanted- _expected_ \- you to go running to someone. They would have killed you both, but they were desperate to break that core of steel you possess first. The attacks got more frequent and violent because every day you said nothing, they knew they'd failed. They were breaking your body, but couldn't conquer your spirit. It drove them to a special kind of madness."

Merlin let tears run again. "But they did," he whispered miserably. "I'm still so scared, Arthur, and I'm tired of being frightened. I feel like a coward." He wiped his hand viciously across his face. "I'm tired of crying," he growled angrily.

"What would make you feel safe again?" Arthur asked, carding his hands through the black strands of silk.

Merlin shook his head, closing his eyes against the awful wish that sprang up from inside him. He didn't _want_ to want that. In all his battles, he had never purposely desired what that awful voice inside of him was whispering in answer to Arthur's question. Duty had demanded it, but he'd never wanted it. It was reaction to what had happened, he knew that. He knew, given time, he would feel only pity in his heart, because Arthur was right. His attackers had tainted their own souls, only to still lose in the end. He wouldn't give it voice, would deny it that power over him, until that day of forgiveness came.

But somehow, Arthur heard his secret wish. "It's all right to be angry, Merlin. It's all right to wish them some measure of the pain they delivered to you. It's normal to hate them for all the humiliation, shame, and confusion that was your life for weeks. For all the frustrations you suffer daily in trying to overcome, to forget."

Arthur took a deep breath. He knew it was time.

"You won't remember, but I swore to you, Merlin, that I would lay justice at your feet one day, for what had been done to you," Arthur confessed quietly. "I'm afraid you're going to be terribly disappointed in me." He got up, heading for a chest in the corner of his room. He brought it over, and, kneeling solemnly, laid it at Merlin's feet.

Merlin eyed the chest warily, then slowly reached for its clasp. Arthur grabbed his hand, stopping him. "I need you to understand, Merlin. I didn't do this for you. I did this for _me_ , for my own sense of justice and duty. This, this was for _my_ satisfaction. For all they threatened, for daring to do it beneath _my_ roof. For all they would have done, had you given in to their expectations. All they would have taken from me, and all they did take. And I am sorry for the pain it will cause you, but I would do it again," Arthur explained with complete conviction. "In giving you justice, I took back _my_ honor."

Merlin's eyes widened, and he jerked his hand loose, throwing open the chest. His stomach heaved as he took in the sight of Agravaine's head preserved in a jar of oil, and he clamped his hand over his mouth. There, in the chest, was his secret wish, the black spot on his soul. Guilt raged through him even as the grotesque sight sent waves of relief through him. Somehow, Arthur had found them. Had found the guilty. It was true, Merlin realized. Arthur had a very keen sense of Justice. A private code he had always lived by. If this is what it had taken to achieve that sense of _right_ , then Merlin knew he couldn't question it. This was not a death laid at his feet on his behalf. This, Arthur had done in response to a grave insult to all he held dear. Shown to him only to fulfill an oath sworn while in the throes of rage, pain, and devastation- but an oath given nonetheless.

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable with how long Merlin sat, starring the jar. He snapped the lid shut, moving it away. He was nervous about the warlock's reaction, but he held firm in his lack of regret. "Are you..." he licked his lips. "Do you think less of me now?"

Merlin laughed, somewhere between manic and relief and pain, shaking his head. He had no words. Words could describe only a single emotion, and inside was a raging storm of many. Through his laughter, tears tracked down his face. And somewhere his laughter turned into sobs. He felt Arthur's arms around him, but couldn't stop. He was horrified. He was relieved. He felt avenged. He felt guilty. He felt hate. He felt an abundance of love. He felt terrified at his glee, then finally, pity, and forgiveness. He didn't hear himself whispering repeatedly, "It's over. It's over."

But Arthur did.


	23. Chapter 23 Final Chapter Book 1

**AN: Graphic Slashy goodness ahead! Thank you to all who have read this story to this point. Thank you for allowing me my indulgence. This is years of repressed Fanfiction getting out, lol. I'm warped, but I do so love to torture our beautiful boys! Thank you, thank you! Final Chapter, folks!**

**_MERLIN1010101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Arthur stood, raising his goblet high, waiting for the noise in the packed Feast Hall to die down. When it did, he cleared his throat. "This Harvest has been one of the best Camelot has seen in many years. It is through the hard work and dedication of the people of Camelot that we are here to celebrate this evening. This year has presented more than a few challenges, for a great many," he took a deep breath, thinking on some of those challenges, before continuing. "But we have overcome through courage and perseverance. And I have never been so proud of a people, nor more humbled to be your King. To the bravery of Camelot," he toasted.

"The bravery of Camelot!" the crowd roared back, coming even from outside. Arthur sat back down, leaning close to his lover, whose eyes were just now returning to their azure blue, as the noise of conversation and laughter began again.

"You projected that speech outside, didn't you?"

Merlin grinned, taking another sip of his wine. "It was a profound speech, Sire. It deserved to be heard. There are many feasts taking place all over Camelot tonight. Besides, I had to do _something_ to feel useful. I'm not accustomed to sitting through the Harvest Feast."

"And you're proud it," Arthur snorted. He had been touched when Merlin replaced the short, manly, punch on the shoulder congratulatory one he had written with it. He hadn't admitted it, but Merlin's was better, was closer to how he felt.

Merlin nodded cheekily. "And I'm proud of it. I worked hard on that speech." He shared a conspiring smile and wink with Gwen, seated on Arthur's other side. It had been her idea, after all. She'd even helped him perfect the projection spell.

Arthur caught the look, but said nothing. He watched the entertainment a little, but mostly, he watched the hall. He watched his Knights, his lover, his friend and Queen Regent. He watched them smiling, laughing, and being happy. This, he knew, was what he would spend every breath of his life defending. He closed his eyes and let the din of the crowd flow through him, soothing and refreshing parts of him he hadn't even recognized were a little bruised and worn. A rough year so far, indeed. Late rains, strong winds, and as many storms inside the castle as out. Pain, suffering, and loss washed from him with each bout of laughter.

He had no doubt that the months ahead would bring additional challenges. They weren't that lucky, and Morgana had been quiet for far too long. Especially as she would have received his 'gift' by now. Her lack of immediate retaliation confirmed his suspicions. Agravaine had been a tool to her, nothing more. He had always grieved that for all the knowledge he'd possessed, for all he had managed to change, he had been unable to change that. He knew why. Morgana's hatred was of Uther's creation, and no amount of knowledge would change the path Uther had chosen for himself. But he mourned the loss of the caring girl he'd grown up with. For the loss of the sister he could have had.

Agravaine had revealed much in those pain filled hours before dawn. Morgana feared Emrys more than anything else. In exposing his magic earlier, Merlin had also exposed his true name. She knew who he was. And she wanted him broken, and utterly defeated. Patience, it seemed, was not a trait she had lost. In his rage, Arthur knew he had sent her confirmation of Agravaine's failure. She would try again, he didn't doubt. It was often on his mind. He doubted she would try another all-out assault on Camelot as long as Merlin was a factor, but he worried about other, quietly conspired efforts.

But for the moment, Merlin was safe, next to him. Months had seen his injuries turn to scars. His nightmares to reduce from nightly to occasionally. The Knights responsible for his prior bullying had been effectively dealt with by Gwaine, either removed from Camelot- in one way or another- or been shown the error of their ways. It was, he admitted, a little amusing to watch Merlin's confusion when Knights that had jeered him suddenly bowed anytime he entered a room, or passed by him. The Warlock spent his days training, looking after Arthur- there were some duties he had not been willing to give up, new titles or not- and helping Gaius. Slowly, Merlin's genuine smiles and cheery disposition returned, and his bad days became less frequent. He wasn't fully healed, mentally, not by any measure, but he was getting there.

He looked over as he felt his hand taken in another, carefully hidden by the table. "You look... happy," Merlin said quietly. Arthur grinned back, and deliberately lifted the hand holding his so he could kiss the top of it, in full view of anyone bothering the pay attention.

"I am. I have much to be grateful for this Harvest."

Merlin smiled back, then stood, offered a bow to his King. "I should go prepare your chambers, Sire. Then, with your permission, I'll retire for the night."

Arthur nodded, letting him go. It had been a busy and early day for both of them. He regretted that once he'd recovered enough to do so, Merlin had returned to his former room in the Physician's chambers. He hadn't realized how much he'd miss sleeping next to him. To rolling over just to watch him sleep, and breathe.

"Arthur, you're an idiot," Gwen announced from beside him, popping a roasted pearl onion into her mouth.

Arthur snorted at her, taking a gulp of his wine. "Please, Gwen, tell me what you really think." Though he suspected she was right.

"All right." She turned toward, lowering her voice though it was hardly needed. Wine had flowed and the celebrations were getting loud. "He needs you, Arthur, needs you to push him, just a little. He's come a long way but there is still a part of him that is afraid, that believes those awful things they said."

"He told you this?"

"He doesn't have to, Arthur. I'm his friend. I can see the way he reaches for you, and then pulls back before you notice. I can see the way he appreciates a particular jacket on you, and then closes down, like he's not allowed to think like that. I've seen him lost in thought, his fingers on his lips and can see the sadness in his eyes. Until he realizes I'm there, then he's all smiles. It is wonderful that he talks to you, and to me, more now. That he doesn't hold everything inside. But there is still a dark corner where he hides the very worst. Darkness never goes away, Arthur, until it's replaced by light."

"I've run out of words to tell him, Gwen," Arthur sighed. He valued how much he was able to share with Merlin, his thoughts, his plans, his hopes. He'd worked hard to make up for years of undeserved insults and tossed objects. He didn't know how else to make his feelings clear.

Gwen twitched her lips. "Then stop talking, _Sire_."

**_MERLIN101010101010101010101010101010MERLIN_ **

Merlin ran his hands over the coverlet one last time, content it was perfect. He may not have been the best of servant's, but he had always taken pride in his work, and made efforts to do the best he could. For years, his biggest priority had been doing it just well enough, and just enough, so that Arthur would have no reason to outright fire him. He'd been a little busy saving the kingdom, after all.

Since his return to Camelot after his 'death' and his magic being outed, he hadn't found himself with much time there, either. To help with his recovery, Arthur had eased his duties considerably, assigning more and more to someone else. He'd been a little pre-occupied, he'd admit, with his own sense of horror of what he'd done to save his King's life. Then there was the magical training. And then the assault. All while trying to make sense of a fledgling relationship in which he felt completely out of his depth with.

He had seen Arthur in all his stages. He'd seen a selfish, spoiled brat grow into a man worthy of loyalty and respect. He'd seen Arthur overcome his pride time and again when it really mattered, but ultimately, if his King had one failing, it was his constant return to pride.

It was that pride Merlin feared. He was used to abrasive, closed off, and as Gwaine loved to point out- emotionally stunted. He was used to insults, thrown objects, and sarcasm. He was not, however, accustomed an Arthur openly caring, openly being tender, openly being absolutely devoted. Arthur could switch between the two with alarming alacrity. Arthur had always been solicitous when he was hurt. It felt like he'd spent a lot of the last months doing nothing but recovering. Would the King go back? Did he want him to? Merlin admitted he missed the banter. Missed the lightness. With Arthur, and the Knights. It was still there, to some degree, whenever someone forgot to think of him as fragile.

He snorted to himself. Maybe if he'd stop _acting_ fragile. Gaius reminded him often, usually when he came around to himself, stuffed in a tight ball in the nearest corner of the physician's chambers he could find, that every man had a breaking point. Even him. There was no shame in needing time to balance himself.

Except he couldn't figure out what would do that. There were no spells, and the only enemy to fight was his own mind. He didn't have the tools for that.

He suddenly closed his eyes, sighing, all thoughts driven from his mind when he felt the familiar strong arms go around him, pulling him close to a broad chest he didn't think he'd ever get tired of being near. The familiar scents of earthy musk, sandalwood, and a hint of mulled wine- he took in with a deep breath. Here, he felt grounded. Balanced.

Soft lips kissed along his throat, feather light but confident in their ability to be maddening. Merlin groaned as a gentle suction was applied to his pulse point, shivering.

"You left the Feast?" Merlin asked in surprise, not entirely displeased.

"There's a better one here," Arthur murmured, before deciding his lips were better served ghosting over the pale, silk skin, marveling in the goosebumps that were raised. He delighted in the feel of the strong pulse as his tongue reached out to taste what he had denied himself for so long. He enjoyed himself, patiently waiting for his lover to set his limits, to pull them back. When he received nothing but enthusiasm, he decided to test Gwen's advice. His hands pulling out Merlin's shirt even as he surged to take the boys lips in his, roaming the sensitive skin underneath. He let his thumb move over the sensitive nipples.

Merlin growled then, and turned suddenly, so that he was now face to face with his King. Arthur expected him to speak, to stop. He was shocked, when Merlin surged forward, grabbing at his lips, then nipping along his jawline, a slight suction following wherever his lips touched along his throat. He cried out, nearly coming undone, when Merlin bit him in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

And then his hands were dragging Arthur's shirt up and off, and Arthur cried out again when Merlin's teeth found his own nipples, feeling his erection surge suddenly against his breeches. The bites were gentled by a lave of a tongue, another sensation of suction, and another bite on now incredibly sensitive skin. Arthur was panting. He had his hands roving through Merlin's hair, and he forced himself to focus on that. Merlin's lips were moving down his chest, his stomach, his fingers expertly undoing the laces of the pants, and Arthur huffed in aroused surprise when his length was suddenly freed from their restriction.

"Wait, Merlin," Arthur gasped out, trying to find some control. He hadn't mean to push their established limits this far, to expect something Merlin wasn't ready to give.

"Do you want this, Arthur?" Merlin purred, rubbing his cheek along the length of the King's shaft.

Arthur was too far gone to respond with anything but the truth. "Yes." Merlin's lips pressed into his inner thigh, delivering a not so gentle nip. "Gods! _Yes_! I want it!"

"Good."

And then Merlin's hot breath was on him, lips exploring, a curious tongue dipping out every so often to taste. Arthur had always prided himself on his stamina. The bed chambers were no exception, but when Merlin turned those azure eyes to look up at him to meet his eye before taking him into his mouth, he almost finished then and there. He had to slow this down!

"Ah! Merlin!" he cried out when Merlin turned his previous curiosity into determined confidence. He had to... they had to stop... He let out a strangled cry when the warlock wrapped his hand around the length, teasing the tip with a combination of nips, suction, and light flicks of his tongue.

"Merlin, stop... I can't..." Arthur moaned desperately. Merlin's other hand roamed softly over the skin of his thigh, hip, and up his sensitive side creating a plethora of sensations. He wasn't going to last. And then Merlin engulfed him to the base, sucking hard, cheeks hollowing and pressing him on all sides.

Arthur's cry was inarticulate and savage as he emptied powerfully inside the younger man's mouth, enchanted by the feeling of Merlin's throat and mouth working to swallow it all. All he had left in him was to gasp when Merlin finally let him slide from his mouth.

Arthur's shaking muscles were easy to manipulate as Merlin turned him, then pushed him backward onto the bed. He felt another stirring of something inside him when the boy sat across his hips, leaning down with a distinctively mischievous glint in his eyes as he deliberately licked his lips. "You're right, Sire. A _much_ better feast here."

Arthur burst out laughing, still trying to catch his breath. He reached up and grabbed the face hovering over his, pulling it down until lips crashed together. Merlin's efforts had taken the edge off, but passion was still igniting every part of him. He'd had a taste, and he wanted _more_. Merlin's position across his hips let him feel how aroused the warlock was. He let his tongue slide over Merlin's closed lips, begging for permission to enter. The moment they parted slightly, Arthur thrust his tongue in, wanting to taste everything. He could taste himself, finding it oddly erotic, but so much more was pure _Merlin_.

It took only a moment for Merlin to follow his lead, hesitant at first, then gaining confidence as tongues battled in their small cages to devour each other. Arthur broke it only long enough to fling off Merlin's shirt before diving back in, like the only air available was what Merlin could provide. He ran his hands through Merlin's hair, tightening into fists when Merlin's hips surged against his.

Without think, or even breaking the battle of their mouths, he effortlessly flipped the boy so that Merlin was on his back, himself lying half over the lithe frame, his hands running over skin he had desperately wanted to explore for so long. So long. He gentled the kiss, then, ending the battle, coaxing instead.

He smiled when Merlin growled, trying to push for passion again, but he wouldn't allow it. This would be special, he decided. He wanted all of Merlin, and broke away reluctantly, moving those lips to the throat that had feature strongly in his more pleasant dreams. It was long, graceful, and every inch of it needed to be kissed, licked and sucked.

He grinned against the tender skin when Merlin cried out as he gently bit into the hollow of his throat. As he moved his lips over a surprisingly lean muscled chest, he let his palm ghost over Merlin's own arousal, enjoying the cry and the attempt to buck into his hand. He moved instead to untie the pants. He hesitated. "Merlin," he whispered, needing to hear the boy give permission.

"I'm not fragile," Merlin gasped, determination and a little anger in his voice, but laced with pleasure, too.

"Gods no," Arthur breathed. "But _I_ need to hear." Arthur bent to the scars that covered the boys chest, kissing each one with reverence for all they represented. Merlin gasped again, arching his back a little into the touch.

"Please, Arthur..." he moaned, not sure what he was begging for but suddenly understanding he _needed_ it. "Please..." he whimpered. Arthur nodded, accepting, his hand moving once again to rid them of the barrier between them. He did so efficiently, continuing to explore the writhing body beneath him with his lips while his hand wrapped confidently around the rather magnificent member, grinning when Merlin bucked into it immediately, crying out in surprise. Arthur worked his hand up and down slowly, all the while working his fingers over like he would the handle of sword, applying different pressure in places while the palm of his hand worked steadily up and down.

Merlin's little mewls of pleasure were testing the limits of his sanity, and for the second time, he found himself closer to the edge then he wanted to be. He didn't think he could tip Merlin over without going himself. The warlock was incredibly responsive to every kiss, every touch- the arch of the lithe body flowing hypnotically in time with his own efforts, short nails raking against Arthur's sensitized skin. The boy was exquisite as he was slowly driven mad in pleasures he hadn't previously known. Every sound and visual the most erotic Arthur had ever experienced in his life.

Letting go of his prize reluctantly, Arthur launched back up to those swollen lips that tempted him as they opened, panting. He grinned against them at Merlin's grunt of disappointment, then began the torture of the gentle, slow tango of their tongues. Pleasure was wonderful, but he needed this connection.

"By the gods, Merlin, you _are_ beautiful," he breathed before diving back in. He ran his hand down the soft skin of Merlin's side, letting his fingers barely ghost over it. Merlin was trembling now, and he was enthralled with it, to have driven him to this. His fingertips explored every inch of the man beneath him they could reach.

"Arthur," Merlin whimpered, begging. "I need..." unable to finish as a cry escaped his lips instead while Arthur bit his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

Once he was sure the mark was good and dark, Arthur looked up at blue eyes near black with lust. "What do you need, Merlin?" he asked. Merlin shook his head. Arthur moved his hand up to cup the face of his beloved, turning his face so they were inches from each other. "Ask, Merlin, and it's yours," he urged.

"Create, not destroy," Merlin gasped out, bucking into the hand that had taken hold of him again. He was too far gone to think, too deep into all that was happening between them.

But Arthur understood. He moved down to the throbbing heat that stood tall in front of him, then without warning took it to the root in his mouth, letting it go in a long, slow, draw upwards, enjoying Merlin's cries.

While doing this, he reached his side table for a bottle of oil that he knew was there, making sure his fingers were well coated, taking advantage of Merlin's eyes being squeezed shut, that long neck arched back. He moved back up to capture his lips, nipping at them until Merlin turned into the kiss, accepting it, automatically lifting one leg to balance himself on the bed as Arthur changed the dip of the mattress by shifting his weight. Arthur took advantage, moving his hand down the inner thigh, his oiled fingers found the tight ring of muscle, circling it, pressing lightly, then returning to circling.

Merlin's eyes flashed open in the surprise, and Arthur grabbed them with his own. "Are you sure, Merlin?" the King asked, pressing his fingertip, popping inside the ring to emphasize his point. He let his finger rotate slowly. "Absolutely sure?"

Merlin groaned. "I think I'll die if you don't." He grabbed Arthur's lips again, pressing harder when he felt the finger go in further, demanding everything with his mouth that his body was begging for. He broke off to cry out when Arthur inserted a second finger, working it inside him, scissoring, stretching him. He added a third.

Arthur watched the flurry of expression across the young man's face, at first to make sure Merlin didn't push himself farther than he was ready to go, then out of simple fascination. There was no control here. Merlin, in all his glory, was wantonly his. He crooked his finger, hard, pressing on that secret place only men had. He nearly came when Merlin screamed his name. He did it again, and again.

"Arthur, please," Merlin whimpered, nearly at the end of his endurance, bucking his hips against the fingers inside him. To be cheeky, Arthur did it again, watching every line of Merlin's body as it arched, seeking, responding, shaking with these strange new sensations. He thought, for a moment, that this must be how Merlin felt when he had magic coursing through his veins. Everything seemed brighter, seemed focused, no detail lost. From the beads of sweat on the porcelain brow to the slight quivering muscles going through aftershocks, to the smell of the pearl decorating the tip of Merlin's red shaft. Arthur knew then that if he was enchanted, he never wanted the spell to break.

"It would be easier on your front," Arthur warned, knowing what the boys' answer would be even as Merlin shook his head.

"Need... to... see... you..." Merlin panted, crying out again as Arthur found that spot again, deliberately not giving his mind time to remember _why_ he needed to see Arthur, to know without doubt it was his King. Arthur nodded, moving off the bed, pulling Merlin to the edge, never letting his fingers stop while he moved them. With one last sharp press, he swiftly removed his fingers, and inserted his tip, making sure the entry rode the tail edges of pleasure.

Merlin cried out, his muscles in spasm around the blunt head. Arthur himself was shaking, sweating, fighting for control as Merlin wrapped lean but powerful legs around his waist. He wanted desperately to pound into the tightness and warmth surrounding him, but he was determined Merlin would find pleasure in this, determined to wipe out of last vestiges of the awful memories that plagued the younger man.

He pushed in a little more, stopping when Merlin tensed. He patiently waited for Merlin to adjust, panting in his effort for restraint. There was a considerable difference in girth between his penis and his fingers. And then Merlin slowly started to move, thrusting his own hips in small increments, using his heels to urge more of Arthur into him.

"More," Merlin pleaded.

Arthur obeyed without question, finally sliding in fully, crying out his own pleasure as those muscles clamped around him. He'd intended to be patient again, but Merlin was already moving, urging him on. Arthur moved slowly and confidently in his thrusts, getting lost in all that was his lover. The sounds and the lines of that slim body as it moved with his. When his warlock was truly lost to the pleasure, he used his hand to grab Merlin's bobbing member, stroking in time with his thrusts, changing his angle, knowing his girth was enough to rub against that pleasure source again, and again. He'd never heard anything that drove his own sensations quite like the strangled cries that were coming Merlin did.

"Merlin," Arthur cried out, thrusting in again, a little harder. For all that he was lost in his own pleasure, in knowing he was responsible for every mewl, cry, and moan coming from the younger man, he never took his eyes off Merlin's face, watching for any sign this was no longer pleasure for the warlock. "Let go for me, Love. Let me see."

A few more thrusts, and Merlin screamed his name so loudly when he climaxed that Arthur was sure they'd heard it in the next Kingdom over. He loved it. The vocalization of the ultimate pleasure combined with the spasms of muscles tightly around him sent him, with his own cry nearing similarity to a bellow, over the edge to his own release minutes later.

He collapsed onto the warlock, shivering as each aftershock from Merlin's body was felt on his slowly softening and sensitive member. He took only a moment to enjoy this before slowly withdrawing, and pulling both himself and Merlin fully onto the bed.

Given the sudden silence, he wasn't entirely trusting that the trembling from his lover was purely pleasure induced, so he wrapped the younger man in his arms, pulling tightly to him, and kissed him. Slowly, tenderly, with all the love that was swelling his heart going into it. It took a moment, but when Merlin began to respond, there was a level of desperation to it, confirming Arthur's suspicions. He refused to give in, kept control of the kiss, kept it tender.

"I love you," Arthur breathed, repeating it over and over again until the desperation had left the kiss, leaving only tenderness behind. He held the warlock tightly until his shaking stopped, until taunt muscles began to relax into the languor of post bliss.

"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin whispered. "I'm sorry."

Arthur looked at him incredulously. "For what?"

"I feel... selfish. I know... maybe that's not how you thought it would be," Merlin finished, blushing, unable to voice his embarrassment for pitting his inexperience against Arthur's wealth of such.

Arthur barked out a short burst of laughter, making the boy blush further. "Merlin, if that was you being selfish, then I don't think I'll survive you being generous," he chuckled. "Good gods, you're incredible. _That_ was incredible."

They laid in silence for a while before Arthur got up, going over to a bowl of wash water. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin tidying the bed coverlet, then flinging back the covers on the one side. He frowned when the boy began to search for his clothes, finishing his washing quickly.

When Merlin straightened up from having picked up his shirt off the floor, he was startled to see a very proudly naked Arthur standing in front of him. Right then and there he decided that Arthur's muscular body should never bear the burden of clothing again, even as he squeaked "Arthur!", jumping back.

"Not even going to wait until I'm asleep to sneak off?" Arthur asked casually. Again, Merlin looked shocked.

"Arthur, you can't mean... there will be servants in here in the morning," Merlin hastily explained.

"Oh yes," Arthur agreed sarcastically. "How dreadful for them to find the King's lover actually _in_ the King's bed."

Merlin blinked, his mouth moving to an "oh" expression, and Arthur let some of his ire go. It was clear that Merlin had been acting on the assumption that he had served his purpose, and was therefore dismissed. It pained the King, he admitted, after sharing such an earth shattering experience, but that had always been their routine.

Unless... "Merlin, do you _want_ to stay?" he asked hesitantly. He saw an expression flash through Merlin's eyes- he had seen it before, but only after tonight was he able to recognize it as 'want', before they shuttered.

"I... maybe it's not a good idea, Arthur."

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, taking the younger man in his arms. "Tell me." He felt Merlin tense against him, and was half prepared for him to try and run, but then he felt the warlock take a deep breath.

"Tonight was... there are no words to say just how wonderful it was," Merlin explained quietly, feeling he owed his King this truth. "And it was so different, but..."

"There were moments when it was close enough," Arthur finished, understanding immediately. "You're going to have nightmares." He was tempted to give in for all of a second, then decided against it. He would be hanged before letting Merlin go through that horror alone.

Merlin hesitated, but then nodded slowly. "I'm afraid I might," he confessed.

"So, it's all right for _you_ to lose sleep, but it's not okay for _me_ to miss a bit?" Arthur drawled out, arching his eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Gaius' Eyebrow of Doom.

"Arthur," Merlin sighed. "It's not that simple. _My_ nightmares are dangerous."

"Merlin, do you trust me?" Arthur asked. In everything they'd been through, one thing was abundantly obvious. Merlin's magic was destined to help him, protect him. He was utterly confident in its lack of ability to hurt him, even by accident. Besides, after all the items he'd tossed at the servant over the years, a few bumps and bruises would serve as fitting rebuttal.

Merlin looked at him, deadly serious. "Always, Arthur."

"Then come back to bed."

There were no nightmares that night. Nor for many nights after. As their Bond grew in strength, so too did Albion grow in prosperity.

A choice changed the Fate of a Kingdom. But all choices have consequences, some of them far reaching.

**_THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU_ **

**_AN: Okay. I have completed Book 2 of what is now The Bond Series. A short (5 CH) story called Darkest Days. In case the name wasn't a hint, it's um... kinda dark. A bridge between these events, healing, then moving on to further my indulgence to torture the boys in Book 3- Bound by Fate. You_ ** _can **skip Darkest Days, as I have glossed over those events in BBF, but explained enough of the important parts.**_

**_A sincere thank you to all those who have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed The Choice. It means the absolute world to me!_ **

**_Again to note the series is completed and posted in full on FFnet._ **

Book 1: The Choice- 23 CH

Book 2: Darkest Days- 5 CH

Book 3: Bound by Fate- 12 CH

Book 4: Trials of Destiny- 7 CH

Book 5: Becoming the Legend- 17 CH (or RE-Upload Version 18 CH)

Book 6: Snapshots- a place to compile other stories I want to add to the Bond universe, but are no part of the main storyline in books 1-5. Currently, there is 1 story in there- Going Home.


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